BNIV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOfi 


[See  p.  220 

"BETTY  HAMILTON,  FOLLOWED  BY   BROWNIE,  APPROACHED  THROUGH 
THE  WOODS" 


Miss  BETTY 

OF   NEW   YORK 


BY 

ELLEN  DOUGLAS  DELANO 

AUTHOR  OF 

"A  LITTLE  SON  OF  SUNSHINE " 
"OAKLKIGH"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED    BY 
RACHAEL    ROBINSON 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 

NEW    YORK    AND    LONDON 


The  Girls'  Library 

Illustrated — Jackets  Printed   in  Colors 


MAY  IVERSON — HER  BOOK.    By  Elizabeth  Jordan 
MAY  IVERSON  TACKLES  LIFE.    By  Elizabeth  Jordan 
MAY  IVERSON'S  CAREER.    By  Elizabeth  Jordan 
OAKLEIGH.    By  Ellen  Douglas  Deland 
ALAN  RANSFORD.    By  Ellen  Douglas  Deland 
JOSEPHINE.     By  Ellen  Douglas  Deland 
IN  THE  OLD  HERRICK  HOUSE.    By  Ellen  Douglas  Deland 
A  LITTLE  SON  OF  SUNSHINE.     By  Ellen  Douglas  Deland 
Miss  BETTY  OF  NEW  YORK.     By  Ellen  Douglas  Deland 
LIBERTY  HALL.    By  Florence  Hull  Winterburn 
BETTY  BELL.    By  Fannie  Kilbourne 
REBECCA  MARY.    By  Annie  Hamilton  Donnell 


Copyright,  1908,  by  HARPBR  &  BROTHERS. 
C-Z 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"BETTY  HAMILTON,  FOLLOWED  BY  BROWNIE,  AP- 
PROACHED THROUGH  THE  WOODS "  .  .  .  Frontitpiece 

'"I'LL  GIVE  YOU  THE  NICEST  NAME  I  CAN  THINK 

OP,  DEAREST/  HE  WHISPERED7'  .  .  .  .  facing  p.  96 

"  '  THEY  ARE  INDIANS  PLANNING  TO  SCALP  AND 

MASSACRE  US'" "  150 

"*I  SHALL  ALWAYS  WEAR  IT  ALL  MY  LIFE  LONG,' 

SHE  SAID"  "  280 


2129067 


MISS   BETTY  OF  NEW  YORK 


MISS   BETTY 
OF    NEW    YORK 


remember,  Christopher.  Ten  blocks 
down  and  then  turn  and  walk  back.  Don't 
leave  Madison  Avenue.  Straight  down  and 
straight  back.  You  understand?" 

"Oh  yes,  I  understand,  grandfather." 

"I  feel  strongly  inclined  to  send  Thomas  with 
you." 

"Oh,  grandfather !  Please,  please  don't.  Please 
let  me  go  alone !  I  can  perfectly  well.  I  will  do 
just  as  you  say,  only  I  do  so  want  to  go  alone!" 

"I  cannot  imagine  why.  Thomas  could  walk 
behind  you.  Surely  you  do  not  dislike  Thomas  ?" 

"Oh  no!  I  like  him.  But  I  do  want  to  go 
alone.  And  you  said  I  could,  grandfather.  You 
promised." 

"So  I  did.    Well,  go." 

In  a  moment  the  front  door  closed  and  Chris- 
3 


MISS    BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

topher  Lovel  started  on  his  first  walk  alone  in  the 
streets  of  New  York. 

He  was  a  boy  of  eleven  or  twelve  years  old,  and 
he  lived  with  his  grandfather,  General  Baldwin 
Keith.  His  father  and  mother  were  dead,  and 
he  had  no  other  near  relatives.  He  had  not 
always  lived  with  his  grandfather.  In  fact,  until 
the  preceding  summer  he  had  not  even  known 
him,  for  the  General  had  not  approved  of  his 
daughter's  marriage,  and  during  Christopher's 
early  childhood  he  had  not  even  seen  him.  Now, 
however,  he  loved  him  dearly,  and  with  such 
strength  of  affection  that  he  would  scarcely  allow 
him  out  of  his  sight.  The  boy  was  lame,  and  this 
fact  made  the  grandfather  still  more  careful  of 
him.  But  as  he  walked  down  Madison  Avenue, 
except  for  the  fact  that  he  carried  a  cane,  his 
lameness  was  scarcely  noticeable.  He  had  been 
injured  by  an  accident  several  years  ago,  but  the 
crutches  which  he  had  been  obliged  to  use  were 
now  no  longer  necessary,  and  no  one  would  have 
imagined  that  the  boy  had  but  one  leg. 

He  was  a  tall  boy,  but  with  a  face  that  was  sin- 
gularly childlike  for  one  of  his  age.  His  hair  was 
fair  and  his  eyes  were  blue,  and  their  expression 
was  so  friendly,  his  face  so  sunny,  that  more  than 
one  person  who  passed  him  turned  to  look  at  him 
a  second  tune. 

It  was  a  beautiful  day  in  early  spring.    There 


MISS    BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

had  been  rain  during  the  night,  but  now  the  sun 
was  shining,  and  in  the  parks  and  squares  the  grass 
had  turned  green,  and  small  beginnings  of  buds 
could  be  discovered  on  trees  and  bushes.  A  long 
double  procession  of  carriages,  automobiles,  and 
wagons  passed  up  and  down  the  avenue,  with  the 
rumble  and  roar  that  are  never  absent  from  the 
streets  of  New  York.  On  the  sidewalks  there 
was  another  double  procession  of  persons  walking, 
though  not  in  such  close  ranks.  But  there  was 
life  and  movement  everywhere,  and  Chris  rejoiced 
in  being  part  of  it. 

"I  wish  I  could  meet  Betty  Hamilton,"  he 
thought.  "Oh,  I  just  wish  I  could  meet  her,  or 
see  her  in  a  window  or  something!  She  lives  on 
Madison  Avenue;  I  remember  that.  I  suppose 
grandfather  knows  the  number,  but  if  I  had 
asked  him  what  it  was  he  would  have  told  me  I 
couldn't  go  there.  It  is  so  funny  grandfather 
doesn't  like  to  have  me  go  with  other  children. 
I  do  wish  I  could  find  Betty,  though.  I'll  ask 
Cousin  Ludovic  when  I  see  him." 

As  if  in  answer  to  his  thought,  a  girl  came 
running  across  the  street  from  the  opposite  side 
of  the  way,  dodging  beneath  horses'  heads,  and 
behind  and  in  front  of  puffing  automobiles,  in  a 
manner  only  possible  to  a  resident  of  New  York. 
She  was  followed  by  an  elderly  woman,  whose 
face  wore  an  expression  of  protest,  although  she 
5 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

was  too  far  behind  for  her  words  to  be  heard 
above  the  din  of  traffic.  The  girl  was  about 
eleven  or  twelve  years  old — in  fact,  just  the  age 
of  Christopher.  She,  too,  was  tall  and  very 
straight,  and  her  hair,  which  was  rather  short, 
was  red  and  curly.  She  dashed  across  the  street, 
stopped  short  directly  in  front  of  Christopher, 
and  seized  both  of  his  hands  in  her  own. 

"Chris  Lovel!"  she  cried.  "Where  did  you 
come  from?  And  were  you  coming  to  see  me? 
And  where  are  your  crutches?  Don't  you  need 
crutches  any  more?" 

"  Oh,  Betty !"  said  Chris.  For  a  moment  it  was 
all  he  could  say.  He  was  so  glad  to  see  her  that 
it  made  him  feel  dumb.  But  Betty  had  voice 
and  words  enough  for  both. 

"I  saw  you  from  the  other  side  of  the  way,  and 
I  could  scarcely  believe  my  eyes.  It  didn't  seem 
as  if  it  could  be  you  without  crutches.  How 
do  you  manage?" 

But  before  he  could  reply  the  elderly  woman, 
who  had  pursued  Betty  across  the  street,  had 
joined  them. 

"It's  a  wonder  you  were  not  run  over,  Miss 
Betty,"  she  said,  severely,  "dashing  across  in  the 
most  crowded  place  like  that.  And  who  is  this, 
if  you  please?" 

"Why,  it's  Chris  Lovel!  You  know  who  he  is. 
He  was  at  Maybury  last  summer.  Chris,  this  is 
6 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

Gertrude.  She's  walking  home  from  school  with 
me,  and  she  hates  so  to  cross  anywhere  but  at 
crossings  that  she's  cross.  See?" 

Both  children  laughed,  and  Chris  looked  up 
into  Gertrude's  worthy  German  face  with  so 
friendly  an  expression  that  her  own  relaxed  and 
she  smiled,  too,  at  Betty's  joke. 

"Come  along  to  our  house,"  said  Betty.  "Were 
you  coming  there,  anyway?" 

"I  didn't  know  which  it  was,"  replied  Chris, 
"but  I've  been  looking  at  all  these  houses  and 
wishing  I  knew,  or  that  I  could  see  you,  and  then 
you  came  running  over.  My  grandfather  lives 
on  this  street,  too." 

"Oh  yes,  I  know  the  house.  Everybody 
knows  General  Keith's  house,  it  is  so  big  and 
grand.  It  has  seemed  so  funny  all  winter,  Chris, 
whenever  I  passed  there  coming  home  from  school, 
to  think  you  would  be  living  there.  Uncle 
Ludovic  told  me  you  were  coming  home  from 
abroad,  but  he  said  you  were  going  right  up  to 
Maybury." 

"  So  we  are  soon.  We  only  got  here  day  before 
yesterday.  I  hope  we  shall  stay  here  awhile. 
I  like  New  York  better  than  Europe.  It  is  so  gay, 
and  there's  such  a  blue  sky,  and  the  sun  shines  so 
much  more." 

"Here  is  our  house.  Can't  you  come  in  and 
see  my  dog?  And  perhaps  mamma  is  at  home." 

7 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

"I  don't  know  whether  grandfather  would 
like  it,"  said  Christopher,  hesitating  at  the  foot 
of  the  steps  while  Betty  ran  up  and  pulled  the 
bell. 

"Oh,  why  not?  Why,  we  are  almost  your 
relations,  now  that  my  aunt  Edith  has  married 
your  cousin  Ludovic.  Your  grandfather  couldn't 
possibly  object  to  your  knowing  us." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that,  but  you  see — "  He 
hesitated  again.  He  did  not  wish  to  tell  Betty 
that  this  was  the  first  time  he  had  been  to  walk 
alone.  It  seemed  so  very  babyish.  If  only  his 
grandfather  would  treat  him  more  like  a  big  boy! 
However,  there  was  no  help  for  it.  He  must 
explain.  "You  see,  I  don't  usually  go  out  alone. 
My  grandfather  thinks  I  can't  find  my  way,  so 
he  said  I  could  only  walk  ten  blocks  down  and 
then  turn  and  go  back." 

"That's  all  right,  then,"  cried  Betty.  "We're 
only  eight  blocks  down  from  your  house,  and 
coming  in  won't  count  for  anything.  You've 
just  got  to  turn  and  go  back  when  you  come  out. 
Oh,  come  along  in!" 

Thus  urged,  Christopher  followed  her  up  the 
steps  and  into  the  house,  for  the  door  had  now 
been  opened.  A  little  brown  Boston  terrier  with 
a  snub  nose  and  big  brown  eyes  rushed  to  greet 
Betty,  and  included  Christopher  in  his  welcome, 
much  to  the  boy's  delight. 
8 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

"His  name  is  Brownie,"  said  Betty,  "and  he  is 
a  very  dear  dog,  and  hardly  ever  does  any  mis- 
chief. Only  once  in  a  while  he  runs  off  with 
Florence's  slipper  or  gloves  or  something.  Florence 
is  my  grown-up  sister.  She  is  out  in  society  this 
winter,  so  she  thinks  she  has  to  be  very  digni- 
fied and  high  and  mighty  about  her  things,  and 
Brown  just  loves  to  tease  her.  So  do  I,  and  I  get 
lots  of  chances,  for  she  is  the  kind  of  person  you 
can  tease  very  easily.  Let's  go  up-stairs  now. 
I'll  show  you  our  play-room.  We  children  have 
a  place  all  to  ourselves,  and  Charles  and  Pauline 
are  both  out  now,  so  there  won't  be  anybody 
there." 

"Are  they  your  brother  and  sister?"  asked 
Chris,  as  they  mounted  two  long  flights  of  stairs 
and  walked  through  a  passageway  to  a  large, 
sunny  room  on  the  front  of  the  house. 

"Yes,  and  you  can  be  perfectly  thankful  you 
are  the  only  one,  or  at  least  not  the  youngest. 
Charles  and  Pauline  think  just  because  they  are 
older  than  I  am  they  can  do  just  what  they  like. 
That's  Charles's  railroad  you  are  looking  at.  He 
won't  allow  any  one  to  touch  it.  He  is  inventing 
something.  That  is  Pauline's  corner  over  there 
where  the  desk  is.  Pauline  writes  poetry,  so  she 
has  to  have  the  desk.  You  may  be  perfectly 
thankful  you  haven't  a  brother  who  is  an  inventor 

and  a  sister  who  is  a  poetess,  Chris." 

9 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

"Are  your  brother  and  sister  really  that?" 

His  interest  was  plainly  evident.  What  if  he 
should  admire  such  eccentric  individuals!  Such 
a  thought  was  not  to  be  tolerated  for  a  moment. 

"Yes,  I'm  sorry  to  say  they  are,  and  it  is  not 
at  all  convenient.  They  are  just  absorbed  in 
their  own  pursuits." 

"You  are  just  as  wonderful  as  ever,"  said 
Christopher.  "You  use  such  beautiful,  long 
words.  You  must  be  a  very  remarkable  family." 

"Well,  I  suppose  we  are,"  returned  Betty, 
complacently.  "But  you  will  soon  get  to  know 
us  all  very  well,  for  we  are  all  going  to  be  at 
Maybury  this  summer.  My  father  has  bought 
an  old  farm-house  there.  But  you  will  always 
have  me  for  your  most  intimate  friend  in  the 
family,  won't  you,  Chris?  Promise  me  that.  I 
know  you  will  find  I  am  more  congenial  than  an 
inventor  or  a  poetess." 

He  was  delighted  to  promise  it.  He  had  never 
liked  any  one  of  his  own  age  as  much  as  Betty. 
He  had  many  friends  among  older  people,  but 
Betty  stood  alone  as  the  most  fascinating,  the 
most  bewitching  of  children. 

"I  like  you  better  than  any  person  I  know 
who  is  under  fourteen,"  said  he.  "I  shall  be  very 
glad  to  have  you  for  my  most  intimate  friend." 

"All  right,"  said  Betty,  "and  you  shall  be 
mine — while  I  am  at  Maybury.  Of  course,  away 
10 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

from  there — here  in  New  York,  I  mean — there 
are  lots  of  girls,  and  boys,  too,  as  to  that,  who  are 
very  intimate  friends  of  mine.  You  couldn't 
expect  me  to  put  you  ahead  of  them  all  the  year 
round." 

"No,"  said  Christopher  oolitely,  but  sadly, 
"I  suppose  not." 

There  was  an  instant's  pause.  "Does  Rachel 
Amy  Martin  live  at  May  bury  now?"  asked  Betty. 

"Oh  yes." 

"Is  she  under  fourteen?" 

"Oh  no.    Going  on  fifteen,  I  think." 

"Then  she  might — "  But  before  Betty  could 
finish  her  sentence  her  mother  came  into  the 
room.  "Oh,  mamma,  this  is  Chris  Hamilton! 
Don't  you  know,  he  was  at  the  Toppan  Farm 
last  summer  and  found  his  grandfather  so  unex- 
pectedly? And  wasn't  it  funny:  I  just  happened 
to  see  him  on  the  other  side  of  the  street  when 
I  was  coming  home  from  school!" 

Mrs.  Hamilton  greeted  the  boy  kindly  and 
cordially.  She  looked  with  interest  at  the  grand- 
son of  General  Keith,  of  whom  she  had  heard  so 
much. 

"We  did  not  know  you  were  in  New  York," 
she  said.  "Has  your  grandfather  opened  his 
house?" 

"Yes.    We  haven't  been  there  long,  and  it  is 

such  a  great  big  house  I  don't  like  it  very  much. 
11 


MISS    BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

I  must  go  back  now,  or  he  will  think  I  have  lost 
my  way.  I  am  so  glad  I  met  Betty." 

"Can't  you  stay  and  see  her  a  little  while? 
We  will  telephone  your  grandfather  and  tell  him 
where  you  are,  if  you  think  he  will  be  anxious." 

"Grandfather  hasn't  a  telephone.  He  doesn't 
like  them.  We  play  the  violin  a  good  deal,  and 
he  thinks  the  telephone  would  always  be  ringing 
when  he  wanted  to  play.  He  doesn't  like  to  be 
interrupted.  I  think  I  must  go  now,  but  I  should 
like  to  come  again  and  see  Bettv  if  he  will  let 
me." 

"Couldn't  you  come  to  luncheon  with  us  to- 
morrow? We  have  it  at  half-past  one,  and  I 
shall  be  very  glad  to  see  you.  Will  you  tell 
your  grandfather  so?  Perhaps  he  will  not  be 
sorry  to  have  you  come  where  there  are  some 
other  children." 

"I  don't  think  grandfather  cares  anything 
about  that,"  said  Christopher,  looking  up  at  her 
with  his  frank  blue  eyes.  "He  would  rather 
have  me  stay  with  him.  He  wouldn't  let  me  go 
with  any  children  when  we  were  travelling.  Up 
at  Maybury  I  only  go  to  Toppan  Farm  to  see 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Toppan,  and  they  are  grown  up, 
and  I  go  there  because  they  are  the  ones  who 
really  found  me." 

"Then  you  don't  go  with  Rachel  Amy  Martin?" 

asked  Betty. 

12 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

"No,  I  don't  see  her  very  often." 

"It's  splendid  that  you  don't  have  to  use 
crutches  any  more,"  said  Betty;  "but  do  you 
always  have  to  carry  that  cane?" 

The  boy's  face  saddened.  Then  the  color 
spread  over  it  and  his  eyes  kindled.  He  spoke 
with  eagerness.  "Not  always,  and  I  sha'n't  have 
to  very  long.  And  it's  better  than  crutches. 
When  I  first  began  to  use  crutches  I  thought  they 
were  grand,  and  now  I  think  my  new  leg  is  grand. 
You  would  hardly  know  it  isn't  a  real  live  leg, 
would  you?" 

"I'd  never  know  it  at  all." 

"I'm  so  glad!" 

Presently  he  had  said  good-bye  and  was  walk- 
ing up  Madison  Avenue,  going  as  rapidly  as  pos- 
sible, for  he  was  quite  sure  his  grandfather  must 
already  be  anxious  about  him. 


n 


/CHRISTOPHER  felt  very  happy  himself,  even 
\J  though  his  grandfather  might  be  displeased 
with  him.  He  had  seen  again  and  had  talked 
with  Betty  Hamilton,  and  if  his  grandfather 
would  only  give  him  permission  he  was  to  take 
luncheon  at  her  house  to-morrow.  He  was  not 
at  all  sure  that  General  Keith  would  be  willing, 
but  at  least  he  had  the  hope.  And  even  if  he 
could  not  go,  he  could  rejoice  in  the  thought  of 
having  seen  Betty  and  having  found  that  she  had 
not  forgotten  him  and  was  "just  as  nice  as  ever." 
And  they  were  coming  to  Maybury  for  the 
summer!  He  hoped  with  all  his  heart  that  his 
grandfather  would  not  object  to  his  playing  with 
her  occasionally,  and  perhaps  with  her  brothers 
and  sisters  and  cousins.  Chris  had  not  a  very 
clear  idea  of  how  many  there  were.  He  thought 
of  Betty  as  a  fascinating  and  fortunate  young 
person,  surrounded  by  a  large  circle  of  admiring 
and  affectionate  relatives,  all  eager  to  do  just 
as  she  wished,  and  all  loving  her  better  than  they 
could  possibly  love  any  one  else — for  surely  there 

14 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

could  be  no  one  in  the  world  more  worthy  of 
affectionate  admiration  than  Betty  Hamilton. 

Christopher  had  very  few  relatives;  his  grand- 
father, a  great-aunt,  and  some  grown-up  second 
cousins  were  the  extent  of  his  family.  Until  less 
than  a  year  ago  he  had  not  known  even  of  them. 
He  had  supposed  himself  to  be  an  orphan  with 
no  kindred.  Then,  by  a  strange  combination  of 
circumstances,  it  had  been  discovered  that  he 
was  the  grandson  of  General  Keith,  and  from 
being  a  poor  and  homeless  little  boy  he  had  sud- 
denly become  a  person  of  importance,  the  idol  of 
his  grandfather,  and  in  all  probability  the  heir  of 
his  wealth,  although  that  part  of  it  had  not  as 
yet  occurred  to  Christopher.  Since  then  his  life 
had  been  totally  different  from  all  that  had  gone 
before.  Part  of  the  time  had  been  passed  at 
Maybury,  where  General  Keith  owned  a  large  and 
beautiful  estate,  and  part  in  travelling,  for  early 
in  the  winter  the  old  man  had  become  restless, 
and  with  sudden  determination  went  abroad, 
taking  Christopher  with  him,  and  his  faithful  man 
Thomas.  That  Chris  was  lame  was  a  never-failing 
source  of  sorrow  to  General  Keith.  It  was  said 
by  those  who  knew  the  proud  old  General  that  he 
blamed  himself  for  it.  Had  he  not  refused  to 
pardon  his  daughter  for  marrying  against  his 
wishes,  the  little  boy  would  never  have  been  in- 
jured; for  he  was  playing  his  violin  in  the  street 
a  15 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW  YORK 

for  money  when  the  accident  happened  which 
cost  him  his  leg. 

When  the  boy  reached  home  the  door  was 
opened  immediately  by  a  man  who  seemed  to 
have  been  watching  for  him. 

"Oh,  Master  Christopher/'  he  said,  in  a  tone 
of  relief,  "I  am  very  glad  you've  come!  The 
General  is  worried  to  death." 

"But  why,  Thomas?  He  told  me  I  could  go 
to  walk." 

"Yes,  Master  Christopher,  but  you've  been 
gone  longer  than  the  General  thought  you'd 
ought  to  be.  He — " 

Thomas  paused  abruptly,  for  a  voice  was  heard 
calling  from  up-stairs. 

"Is  that  you,  Christopher?" 

"Yes,  grandfather,"  the  boy  shouted,  in  his 
cheerful  young  voice — a  sharp  contrast  to  the 
querulous  old  tones  that  summoned  him. 

"Why  don't  you  come  up  at  once?  And  why 
did  you  not  tell  me,  Thomas,  the  moment  he 
arrived?  Such  negligence  is — " 

"Oh,  grandfather,  Thomas  didn't  have  time! 
I've  just  this  second  come  in.  Here  I  am,"  he 
continued,  pulling  himself  up  the  stairs  by  the 
balusters.  "I've  had  such  fun!  I've  found 
Betty,  grandfather — Betty  Hamilton,  you  know; 
Cousin  Edith's  niece.  She  was  up  at  Maybury 

16 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

at  the  Toppan  Farm  last  summer,  and  I  didn't 
suppose  I'd  ever  see  her  again." 

"I  don't  know  why  not,  if  she  is  your  cousin 
Edith's  niece.  I  should  suppose  it  the  most  nat- 
ural thing  to  expect — that  you  should  eventu- 
ally meet  her  again.  So  that  is  what  detained 
you!  I  wish,  Christopher,  that  you  would  re- 
member how  anxious  I  must  necessarily  be  when 
you  are  absent  so  long.  I  told  you,  I  think,  ten 
blocks  down  should  be  the  limit  of  your  walk." 

"And  so  it  was,  grandfather.  The  Harniltons 
live  just  eight  blocks  and  a  half  from  here.  I 
counted  very  carefully.  I  saw  Betty  in  the 
street,  and  it  was  such  good  luck!  I  am  sorry 
you  were  worried,  but  I  didn't  know  I  was  gone 
too  long." 

He  had  slipped  his  hand  into  his  grandfather's, 
and  together  they  walked  into  the  library — a  large 
front  room,  from  the  windows  of  which  the  Gen- 
eral had  been  watching,  moving  from  one  to  the 
other  in  restless  impatience,  and  from  there  to  the 
head  of  the  stairs  to  listen.  He  looked  down 
at  the  boy  beside  him  now,  and  his  stern  face  grew 
more  tender.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  all  the 
affection  he  was  capable  of  feeling  was  given  to 
his  grandson.  Chris  glanced  up  fearlessly  and 
talked  with  perfect  freedom.  There  were  very 
few  persons  who  did  not  regard  General  Keith 
with  awe,  and  many  who  disliked  him;  but  he 
17 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

and  Christopher  had  been  on  terms  of  friendship 
since  the  beginning  of  their  acquaintance,  before 
they  knew  of  the  close  relationship  existing  be- 
tween them,  and  their  life  together  had  only 
served  to  strengthen  this  feeling.  Christopher's 
faith  in  the  love  and  goodness  of  others,  a  faith 
which  he  was  unconscious  of,  but  which  was  one 
of  the  strongest  traits  in  his  character,  invariably 
served  to  awaken  the  love  and  goodness  which, 
although  it  may  long  lie  dormant,  is  hidden  some- 
where beneath  the  coldest,  the  most  unpromising 
exterior.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that  people 
would  regard  him  with  indifference  or  dislike, 
and  so  they  rarely  did.  There  is  profound  truth 
in  the  saying  that  we  usually  find  what  we  look 
for  in  the  attitude  of  our  fellow-beings  toward 
ourselves. 

They  seated  themselves  in  their  customary 
places,  the  General  in  a  large  leather  arm-chair 
which  stood  by  the  library  table,  Christopher  in 
a  smaller  arm-chair  which  faced  the  other.  Sit- 
ting thus  they  carried  on  many  conversations, 
and  wherever  they  chanced  to  be  staying  two 
chairs  were  invariably  arranged  for  them  to 
occupy  in  this  manner. 

"Now,  sir,  give  an  account  of  yourself."  The 
words  were  harsh,  and  so  was  the  tone,  and  so 
was  the  face — except  for  the  eyes ;  they  rested  on 
the  boy  with  immense  love  in  their  gaze. 

18 


MISS    BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

"Well,  I  was  so  surprised  to  see  Betty!  She 
came  running  across  the  street  to  speak  to  me, 
and  we  were  near  her  house;  and  when  we  got 
there  she  wanted  me  to  go  in,  and  I  thought  I 
would.  You  see,  I  hadn't  seen  her  for  almost  a 
year — and  she  is  the  most  splendid  girl,  grand- 
father! She  knows  more  games  than  anybody  I 
ever  knew  except  Agnes,  a  girl  I  knew  at  the 
Home.  She—" 

"Never  mind  about  Agnes  at  the  Home.  I 
have  often  told  you  that  part  of  your  life  must  be 
forgotten." 

"I  can't  exactly  forget,  grandfather,  for  you 
know  they  were  my  friends.  I  should  hate  to 
forget  friends.  Shouldn't  you?  But,  of  course,  I 
don't  have  to  talk  about  them  if  you  would  rather 
I  didn't." 

"Go  on  with  your  account  of  to-day.  I  sup- 
pose this  Betty  is  a  daughter  of  Charles  Hamilton. 
You  say  she  is  a  niece  of  Ludovic's  wife.  I  re- 
member she  was  at  Maybury  with  her  aunt.  A 
very  mischievous  young  person.  Charles  Hamil- 
ton's daughter,  of  course." 

"I  don't  know  her  father's  name,  but  she  has 
a  brother  Charles.  I've  never  seen  him,  but 
Betty  has  talked  about  him  a  lot.  And  she  has 
a  mother — oh,  such  a  beautiful  mother,  grand- 
father!" The  boy  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
sighed  heavily.  "It  must  be  a  perfectly  won- 

19 


MISS    BETTY    OF   NEW   YORK 

derful  thing  always  to  have  a  mother  who  looks 
like  that." 

"I  didn't  know  Charles  Hamilton  married  a 
beauty." 

"It  isn't  that  she  is  so  pretty,  but  she  looked 
so — oh,  so  kind!  I  do  love  people  like  that." 
He  paused,  and  his  face  grew  tender.  It  was  a 
face  which  changed  with  the  passing  thoughts. 
He  was  thinking  of  his  own  mother,  whom  he 
could  scarcely  remember.  Indeed,  all  that  he 
could  recall  was  the  way  in  which  she  had  kissed 
him.  He  did  not  speak  of  this  now.  He  had 
discovered  long  ago  that  his  grandfather  did  not 
care  to  have  him  talk  about  his  mother,  although 
she  had  been  his  only  daughter. 

General  Keith,  guessing  his  thought,  urged  him 
to  continue  his  story.  "What  else  happened?" 
he  asked. 

"Well,  they  asked  me  to  come  to  lunch  to- 
morrow, grandfather.  Do  you  think  you  could 
possibly  allow  me  to  go?  I  want  to  so  very 
much." 

General  Keith  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then 
he  turned  abruptly  away  from  the  eager  blue 
eyes.  He  took  up  a  book  that  was  lying  on  the 
table  beside  him. 

"We  start  for  Maybury  to-morrow,"  he  said, 
rather  gruffly. 

Christopher  was  astonished.    He  was  accus- 
20 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW  YORK 

tomed  to  sudden  changes  of  plan  on  the  part  of 
General  Keith,  but  he  had  understood  that  im- 
portant business  must  be  attended  to  in  New 
York,  and  they  had  been  there  but  a  week.  He 
wished  with  all  his  heart  that  he  had  discovered 
Betty's  abode  sooner. 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry!"  he  exclaimed.  "Do  we  really 
have  to  go  quite  so  soon,  grandfather?" 

"Certainly.  And  it  was  only  this  morning  that 
you  informed  me  that  you  preferred  Maybury  to 
New  York." 

"But  that  was  before  I  found  Betty." 

"Betty  or  no  Betty,  we  go  to-morrow.  And 
now  you  may  leave  me.  Ring  for  Thomas." 

The  boy  walked  to  the  bell  and  pressed  it. 
Before  he  left  the  room  he  came  back  to  his  grand- 
father's side  and  stood  there. 

"Well,  what  is  it  now?"  asked  the  General, 
testily. 

"I've  got  to  write  and  say  I  can't  come." 

"Of  course." 

"Shall  I  write  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  or  Betty?" 

"Either  —  both  —  anything  you  like.  Don't 
trouble  me  with  that  now,  Christopher.  I  have 
too  many  arrangements  to  attend  to." 

Christopher  went  to  his  own  room,  and  sat  down 
at  his  desk.  He  was  quite  sure  that  this  plan  to  go 
to  the  country  the  following  day  had  not  occurred 

to  his  grandfather  until  he  had  been  told  of  the 

21 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

invitation   to   luncheon.    He   had   been    in   no 
hurry  to  leave  the  city,  and  he  had  seemed  to 
have  plenty  of  time  at  his  disposal  to  listen  to 
Christopher.     It   was   all   in   keeping,    however, 
with  what  he  knew  of  his  grandfather's  nature. 
He  did  not  wish  him  to  lunch  at  the  Hamiltons', 
and  in  his  usual  hasty  way  had  determined  to 
leave  town  to  avoid  it,  instead  of  following  the 
simpler  plan  of  refusing  to  allow  him  to  accept 
the  invitation.    General  Keith  was  apt  to  decide 
hastily  and  then  stick  to  his  resolution,  even  when 
further  reflection  might  make  it  seem  unwise  to 
do  so.    Christopher  had  not  really  expected  to 
be  allowed  again  to  go  to  the  Hamiltons',  so  he 
was  not  disappointed.    He  was  only  sorry.     He 
consoled  himself  by  writing  two  notes,   as  his 
grandfather  had  said  that  it  would  be  permissible. 
He  liked  to  write,  and  it  was  never  difficult  for 
him  to  express  himself.    So  he  devoted  himself 
to  this  while  his  grandfather  gave  his  orders,  and 
the  whole  household  was  thrown  into  agitation 
by  the  news  of  their  speedy  departure  for  May- 
bury. 

The  next  morning  Betty  was  late  for  breakfast. 
It  was  a  case  of  tangles  and  a  difference  of  opinion 
with  Gertrude  about  a  frock.  Betty  wished  to 
wear  her  "best  every-day  dress"  to  school,  that 

she  might,  upon  her  return,  be  fully  prepared  for 
22 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

company  without  further  effort.  Gertrude  felt 
that  the  usual  school  costume  was  "good  enough" 
for  one  small  boy  who  might  come. 

"Of  course  he'll  come!"  exclaimed  Betty. 
"Why  shouldn't  he,  when  he  had  no  previous 
engagement?  Of  course,  his  grandfather  wouldn't 
prevent  his  coming  to  our  house,  when  his  wife's 
own  nephew  is  married  to  my  own  father's  own 
sister.  It  makes  him  a  sort  of  relation." 

She  was  somewhat  chagrined,  therefore,  to 
find  a  note  at  her  plate  which  proved  Gertrude 
to  be  right.  It  ran: 

"DEAR  BETTY, — Grandfather  and  I  are  going  to 
Maybury  to-morrow,  so  I  cannot  go  to  your  house. 
I  am  awfully  sorry.  I  am  glad  I  met  you  to-day,  only 
I  guess  we  should  not  have  gone  if  I  had  not  seen  you. 
I  like  Brown  ever  so  much.  I  wish  I  had  a  dog  like 
Brown,  only  grandfather  does  not  like  dogs,  so  I  can't. 

"Good-bye.  I  hope  I  will  see  you  sometimes  in 
Maybury. 

"Yours  truly, 

"CHRISTOPHER  LOVEL." 

"He  can't  come!"  said  Betty,  looking  up  from 
her  letter.  "Isn't  that  too  mean?  And  he  says 
they  wouldn't  be  going  to  Maybury  to-day  if  he 
hadn't  met  me,  mamma.  How  could  meeting 
me  make  them  go  to  Maybury?" 

Betty,  as  she  spoke,  watched  her  mother,  who 
was  looking  across  the  table  at  her  father. 

23 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

"That  is  very  characteristic  of  the  General, 
Charlie,  isn't  it?  The  boy  says  in  his  note  to 
me:  'I  did  not  know  we  were  going  so  soon,  but 
grandfather  has  just  this  minute  made  up  his 
mind  to  go  to-morrow,  and  everybody  is  sur- 
prised and  is  hurrying  to  get  ready.'  Could  it 
possibly  be  because —  Surely  he  must  have  learn- 
ed! He  won't  make  the  same  mistake  with  this 
grandchild  that  he  did  with  his  son  and  daughter, 
I  hope." 

"It  looks  like  it,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton.  "Bes- 
sie, I  am  really  sorry  for  that  boy.  I  believe 
he  would  have  stood  more  chance  for  real  happi- 
ness if  he  could  have  lived  with  the  Toppans, 
who  wanted  him  so  much.  We  must  do  what 
we  can  this  summer  to  have  him  with  our  chil- 
dren. The  old  General  always  was  a  fierce  dis- 
ciplinarian, and  what  with  his  experience  in 
the  army  and  his  immense  wealth  he  has  always 
had  his  own  way.  We  shall  have  to  use  some 
tact." 

"Ludovic  will  help  us,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton. 
"He  really  has  some  influence  with  his  uncle,  I 
think." 

The  conversation  then  turned  to  something 
else  which  had  no  connection  with  Christopher, 
but  Betty  had  heard  enough  to  give  her  food 
for  thought  during  the  remainder  of  the&meal. 
What  a  perfectly  dreadful  person  that  old  Gen- 

24 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

eral  must  be,  she  said  to  herself.  She  had  never 
liked  him.  She  remembered  now  how  very  dis- 
agreeable she  had  considered  him,  before  any  one 
knew  that  he  was  Christopher's  grandfather, 
and  when  Chris  used  to  stand  up  for  him  and  say 
that  he  liked  him.  By  this  time  he  must  have 
found  out  that  Betty  was  right,  and  she  looked 
forward  with  pleasure  to  an  opportunity  for 
proving  this  to  him  when  they  should  meet  in 
Maybury.  She  wished  that  she  need  not  wait 
so  long.  This  was  early  April,  and  as  the  family 
was  not  to  go  to  Maybury  until  May,  it  would  be 
a  whole  month  before  she  should  have  the  op- 
portunity to  speak  to  Christopher — an  intermin- 
able period.  She  wished  also  that  she  could  see 
General  Keith's  town  house.  She  had  heard  of 
its  magnificence.  It  was  said  to  be  one  of  the 
handsomest  houses  on  Madison  Avenue,  so  that 
meant  a  very  fine  house  indeed.  She  had  seen 
the  outside  of  it,  for  it  was  just  around  the  cor- 
ner from  her  school.  She  wondered  at  what 
hour  they  were  going  to  start  for  Maybury; 
very  probably  not  until  late  in  the  day.  She 
determined  to  stop  at  the  house  on  her  way  from 
school.  It  would  then  be  one  o'clock,  and  she 
might  have  just  time  enough  for  a  glimpse  of 
the  mansion  and  a  word  with  the  owner.  Betty 
knew  no  fear,  and  quite  looked  forward  to  telling 
the  General  that  her  father  and  mother  did  not 

25 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

approve  of  the  course  he  was  pursuing  with 
Christopher.  She  had  such  immense  faith  in 
the  good  judgment  of  her  parents  that  she  really 
felt  it  to  be  her  duty  to  give  General  Keith  the 
benefit  of  their  opinions.  She  decided  to  say 
nothing  at  home  of  her  intentions.  It  would 
be  time  enough  for  that  when  she  returned,  and 
—  well,  it  was  just  possible  that  her  father 
would  object.  Her  father,  in  spite  of  his  good 
judgment,  sometimes  prevented  her  from  car- 
rying out  plans  that  to  Betty  seemed  so  ex- 
cellent. 

Betty  Hamilton  was  an  impulsive  girl,  and  one 
who  might  even  be  called  headstrong.  When 
an  idea  came  to  her  like  this  one,  an  idea  which 
suggested  all  sorts  of  possibilities  in  the  way 
of  adventure  that  would  make  a  fine  story  to 
relate  to  Charles  and  Pauline — this  last  was  dear 
to  Betty's  heart;  it  was  such  unmitigated  pleas- 
ure to  impress  Charles  and  Pauline — she  seldom 
stopped  to  deliberate.  She  made  up  her  mind 
and  did  it.  The  time  for  deliberation  came 
later,  when  the  deed  was  done  and  everybody 
disapproved.  Her  mother  feared  that  Betty 
would  learn  only  through  some  great  experience. 
She  remembered,  however,  that  she  herself  had 
been  an  eager,  restless  child,  full  of  impulse  and 
mischievous  pranks,  and  also  of  intense  affection. 
Betty  hid  her  feelings  under  a  seemingly  careless 

26 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

exterior,  but  she  was  very  loving,  and  by  love 
could  always  be  ruled. 

Perhaps  she  would  have  told  her  mother  of 
her  intention  of  stopping  to  say  good-bye  to 
Chris  if  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  not  been  called  to 
the  telephone  from  the  breakfast-table  and  then 
to  an  interview  with  a  lady  who  came  very  early 
on  a  matter  of  great  importance.  The  children 
started  for  school  without  seeing  her  again.  Of 
course,  Betty  had  no  thought  of  telling  any  one 
else  about  it.  It  would  spoil  the  whole  story 
if  Charles  and  Pauline  knew  about  it  beforehand. 
She  was,  therefore,  very  silent  as  she  and  her 
sister  walked  up  Madison  Avenue,  and  as  Pauline 
was  engaged  in  the  pursuit  of  a  poetical  fancy 
she  made  no  effort  to  break  the  welcome  silence. 
Pauline  was  to  go  home  after  school  with  a  friend 
to  luncheon,  so  Betty  felt  that  there  would  be  no 
danger  of  being  prevented  by  her.  The  difficulty 
would  lie  in  disposing  of  Gertrude,  who  always 
walked  to  school  with  them  and  came  again  at 
half-past  one  to  accompany  them  home.  Betty 
knew  that  it  would  be  hard  to  persuade  the  de- 
termined Gertrude  to  vary  her  custom  to  such 
an  extent  as  a  call  upon  General  Keith  and  Chris- 
topher would  require.  She  puzzled  over  it  for 
some  time,  and  then  very  wisely  waited  to  see 
how  things  turned  out.  There  was  a  barely 
possible  chance  that  Marie,  one  of  the  younger 

27 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

and  more  docile  maids  would  come  for  her. 
Gertrude  had  been  anxious  to  go  to  see  a  sister 
who  lived  in  Hoboken,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  had 
spoken  of  arranging  to  have  her  take  that  day 
for  the  expedition.  If  it  were  Marie  who  came 
to  the  school,  Betty  knew  that  she  should  find 
it  easy  enough  to  carry  out  her  plans. 


Ill 


AND  Marie  it  proved  to  be.  When  school  was 
X\.  dismissed,  and  Betty  and  all  the  other  girls 
left  the  school-room  and  went  to  the  cloak-room, 
there  was  Marie,  the  young  French  maid,  waiting 
to  help  her  put  on  her  hat  and  coat.  Marie  had 
not  been  living  long  with  Mrs.  Hamilton,  and 
this  was  the  first  time  she  had  been  sent  to  the 
school  for  Pauline  and  Betty.  Gertrude  did  not 
approve  of  Marie,  but  this  was  supposed  to  be  be- 
cause she  was  elderly  and  German,  while  Marie 
was  young  and  French.  Gertrude  declared  Marie 
to  be  deceitful  and  flighty. 

"Mark  my  words,  Mrs.  Hamilton,"  she  had 
said,  with  the  freedom  of  an  old  servant,  "she 
is  not  to  be  trusted."  And  she  had  been  un- 
willing to  go  to  Hoboken  that  morning  if  it  were 
to  devolve  upon  Marie  to  take  her  place  in  walk- 
ing home  with  Betty.  But  Mrs.  Hamilton,  at- 
tributing her  fancies  to  her  well-known  jealous 
disposition,  and  intending  that  Marie  should  be 
available  for  this  very  duty,  only  laughed  at  her 
objections.  Marie  had  come  to  her  with  a  very 

29 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

good  recommendation.  Her  French  was  ex- 
cellent and  her  appearance  most  pleasing.  She 
instructed  Marie  to  speak  only  in  French  to  the 
children,  and  then  sent  Gertrude  to  Hoboken 
while  she  herself  went  to  do  some  shopping  and 
afterward  to  take  luncheon  with  her  sister-in- 
law,  Mrs.  Lewis,  who  lived  in  the  country  not 
far  from  New  York,  and  who  had  telephoned 
that  morning  begging  her  to  come. 

Betty  was  ready  in  a  very  short  time.  She 
bade  a  hasty  good-bye  to  her  friends  and  hurried 
away  with  a  rapidity  that  would  have  surprised 
Gertrude,  who  complained  constantly  of  Betty's 
slowness  in  putting  on  her  hat  and  coat,  and  of 
her  desire  to  linger  and  chat  with  the  girls  after 
school.  To-day  she  was  the  first  to  leave,  and 
as  she  walked  with  Marie  toward  Madison  Avenue 
she  told  her  that  she  wished  to  stop  on  the  way 
home  to  call  upon  a  friend  who  was  going  that 
day  to  the  country,  and  whom,  therefore,  she 
should  not  see  again  a  long  time. 

"Parlez  Franc,  ais,  parlez  Franc,  ais,  mademoi- 
selle, s'il  vous  plait!"  exclaimed  Marie,  with  her 
irreproachable  accent.  "Madame  votre  mere 
m'a  dit  qu'il  faut  parler  Frangais  toujours. 
Toujours!" 

"Je  n'aime  pas  parler  Frangais,"  grumbled 
Betty;  adding  in  English:  "What's  the  use?" 

She  recovered  her  temper,  however,  and  soon 
so 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW  YORK 

discovered  that  the  plan  of  stopping  at  General 
Keith's  house  was  especially  pleasing  to  Marie, 
for  she  herself  would  like  to  call  upon  a  friend — 
in  fact,  it  was  a  cousin  who  lived  "  bien  prochaine" 
in  "L'  A  venue  Troisieme."  What  could  be  more 
convenient  and  desirable?  She  would  leave  "la 
petite  demoiselle  chez  Monsieur  le  General," 
would  seek  "sa  cousine,"  and  return  "toute  de 
suite,  immediatement,  en  cinq  ou  dix  minutes." 

Betty  detested  being  called  "la  petite  demoi- 
selle," as  she  by  no  means  considered  hereelf  to 
be  so  very  little.  Was  she  not  eleven  years  old, 
and  not  very  far  from  her  twelfth  birthday?  It 
was  provoking  that  she  was  not  allowed  to  go 
out  alone.  Pauline  enjoyed  this  great  privilege, 
but  it  was  not  at  all  certain  that  Betty  would 
be  permitted  to  do  it  even  when  she  should  be 
as  old  as  Pauline.  Her  mother  would  not  prom- 
ise. It  all  depended  upon  how  careful  a  girl 
Betty  should  have  become  at  thirteen. 

She  decided  not  to  correct  Marie  for  speaking 
of  her  as  a  "petite  demoiselle"  at  present.  She 
was  too  anxious  to  have  her  carry  out  her  inten- 
tion of  calling  in  Third  Avenue.  It  would  be 
much  more  agreeable  than  to  have  her  wait  at 
General  Keith's.  So  she  avoided  a  dispute,  and 
very  pleasantly,  and  in  excellent  French,  directed 
her  to  stay  at  least  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  and  to 
make  it  fifteen  if  she  possibly  could,  and  then 

3  31 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW  YORK 

she  ran  quickly  up  the  steps  of  the  big,  stone 
house  with  the  paved  court-yard  and  the  high, 
wrought-iron  fence  which  she  had  long  known 
to  be  the  home  of  Christopher's  grandfather. 
She  had  insisted  that  Marie  should  not  linger  for 
an  instant,  so  desirous  was  she  to  have  it  appear 
to  the  servant  who  should  open  the  door  that 
she  was  old  enough  to  make  calls  by  herself. 
Marie,  eager  to  get  to  Third  Avenue,  obeyed  her 
to  the  letter.  When,  therefore,  the  great  front 
door  was  thrown  open,  Thomas  found  upon  the 
steps  only  a  little  girl  whose  face  seemed  familiar 
to  him,  and  who  stood  there  and  asked  for  Mr. 
Christopher  Lovel  with  the  dignity  and  self- 
possession  of  a  grown-up  lady. 

"Yes,  miss,  he's  at  home,  but  he's  going  to 
start  for  the  station  in  a  very  few  minutes." 

"Oh,  then,  I'm  in  time,"  said  Betty,  stepping 
into  the  house  with  perfect  assurance.  "I  was 
so  afraid  he  might  have  gone.  Please  tell  him 
it's  Miss  Betty  Hamilton,  and  I've  just  stopped 
to  say  good-bye  to  him — I  don't  like  to  ask  for 
the  General  at  the  door,"  she  added  to  herself. 
"I  will  ask  Chris  if  I  can  see  him." 

She  walked  into  the  reception-room,  which 
was  at  the  right  of  the  front  door.  Signs  of  a 
hasty  departure  were  plainly  visible  in  the  house. 
Luggage  stood  in  the  hall;  the  furniture  had  not 
yet  been  covered,  but  piles  of  crash  lay  ready  for 

32 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

the  purpose,  some  of  the  ornaments  had  been  put 
away,  and  the  whole  place  seemed  to  be  in  the 
state  of  disorder  which  means  the  departure  of 
the  family. 

Betty  was  not  obliged  to  wait  long,  for  Chris- 
topher was  in  the  dining-room  and  came  to  her 
at  once. 

"Oh,  Betty,"  he  exclaimed,  eagerly,  "how  splen- 
did of  you!  I  was  so  disappointed  I  couldn't 
come  to  lunch;  but  we're  going  right  off.  I  was 
so  sorry  not  to  see  you  again  to  say  good-bye, 
and  here  you  are!" 

"I  thought  I'd  stop  on  my  way  from  school, 
as  I  had  to  go  right  by  the  house.  I  didn't  know 
what  time  you  were  going,  but  I  thought  I'd 
try  it.  Where's  your  grandfather9" 

"He  had  to  go  down-town  on  business,  and  he 
is  to  meet  us  at  the  station.  Thomas  is  going 
with  me,  and  we  have  to  start  very  soon,  I  think. 
Grandfather  said  to  be  there  at  half-past  two. 
The  other  servants  have  gone.  They  went  up 
in  the  early  morning  train  so  as  to  get  things 
ready  for  us  at  Maybury.  We  are  going 
to  stop  overnight  in  Boston,  for  grandfather 
wants  to  see  some  one  who  lives  at  Chestnut 
Hill." 

"Are  you?"  said  Betty.  "In  Boston?  That's 
funny.  You  must  mean  you  are  going  to  spend 
the  night  in  Philadelphia.  Chestnut  Hill  is  near 

33 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

Philadelphia.  Well,  I'm  sorry  not  to  see  your 
grandfather.  I  wanted  to  particularly." 

"What  did  you  want  to  see  him  for?"  asked 
Christopher,  with  some  curiosity.  He  was  not 
at  all  sure  that  his  grandfather  would  be  equally 
desirous  of  seeing  Betty. 

"Oh,  I  just  wanted  to  tell  him  something  my 
father  said.  I'll  tell  him  when  I  get  to  Maybury. 
Oh,  Chris,  what  is  that?" 

They  were  both  startled  by  the  sound  of  a 
heavy  fall  in  the  room  above,  the  jar  of  which 
caused  the  chandelier  to  rattle  and  sway  and  the 
windows  to  shake.  The  perfect  stillness  which 
immediately  ensued  was  even  more  alarming  than 
the  noise. 

"Somebody  must  have  dropped  a  trunk  or  a 
table  or  something,"  suggested  Betty. 

"You  wait  here  while  I  go  and  see,"  said  Chris. 

Presently  she  heard  rapid  footsteps  as  of  per- 
sons running  to  the  room  overhead.  Quite  a 
crowd  of  people  seemed  to  be  gathering  there. 
She  longed  to  join  them  and  see  for  herself  what 
had  happened,  but  she  did  not  feel  quite  at  lib- 
erty to  go  up-stairs.  While  she  hesitated  Chris 
came  back.  His  face  was  white,  and  he  looked 
very  much  frightened. 

"Thomas  has  fallen  off  the  step-ladder,"  he 
whispered.  "He  is  lying  perfectly  still,  and  I'm 
afraid  he  is  dead.  They're  going  for  the  doctor." 

34 


While  he  spoke  a  woman  ran  down-stairs  and 
out  at  the  door.  She  wore  no  hat  or  coat, 
and  from  the  window  they  watched  her  run 
across  the  street  and  disappear  around  the 
corner. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  asked  Christopher,  glad 
to  have  Betty  to  turn  to  for  counsel.  "Grand- 
father will  be  waiting  for  us  at  the  station,  and 
unless  somebody  goes  and  tells  him  he  will  be 
dreadfully  frightened.  He  will  think  something 
has  happened  to  me.  He  is  always  thinking 
that." 

"Then  the  best  plan  will  be  to  go  yourself  and 
tell  him,"  said  Betty,  with  her  usual  promptness. 
"I  will  go  with  you." 

"Oh,  will  you?"  said  Chris,  greatly  relieved. 
"I  shall  be  ever  so  much  obliged  if  you  will. 
You  see,  I  don't  know  my  way  around  New  York 
at  all.  We  go  to  the  Grand  Central  Station,  I 
think." 

"Oh  no,  you  don't.  Not  if  you  are  going  to 
Chestnut  Hill.  You  made  a  mistake  just  now 
when  you  said  it  was  near  Boston.  You  got  it 
mixed  up  with  something  else.  To  go  to  Chestnut 
Hill  you  have  to  go  to  Philadelphia,  and  to  get 
to  Philadelphia  you  have  to  go  over  to  the  station 
at  Jersey  City.  I  know  that  for  certain,  for  I 
have  been  to  Chestnut  Hill.  One  of  my  aunts 
lives  there." 

35 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

She  spoke  with  great  positiveness,  glad  of  a 
chance  to  show  that  she  had  travelled.  Chris 
was  very  much  surprised. 

"I  am  sure  we  go  to  Boston,"  he  said.  "We 
have  to  go  part  way  to  Boston  to  get  to  May- 
bury.  I  know  to  go  to  Maybury  we  have  to 
leave  the  Grand  Central  Station." 

"Oh  no,  perhaps  you  don't.  There  is  always 
some  roundabout  way,  anyhow,  of  getting  to 
places.  Very  likely  there  is  some  short  cut  your 
grandfather  knows  about  that  will  take  you  to 
Maybury  from  Philadelphia.  At  any  rate,  I  am 
certain  sure  you  go  to  Philadelphia  to  get  to 
Chestnut  Hill.  Why,  I  have  been  there,  I  tell 
you!  I  think  I  ought  to  know." 

Betty  spoke  with  an  air  of  such  authority  that 
Christopher  allowed  himself  to  be  convinced, 
strange  as  it  appeared  to  him  that  it  could  be  as 
she  declared.  His  grandfather,  it  was  true,  had 
given  all  the  necessary  directions  to  Thomas. 
It  was  his  habit  to  treat  Christopher  as  though 
he  were  a  very  small  child.  .His  lameness,  of 
course,  made  him  seem  younger  and  more  help- 
less than  other  boys  of  his  age.  His  experiences 
before  his  accident  had  been  of  a  nature  that 
would  tend  to  harden  him,  but  the  long  illness 
in  the  hospital  and  his  life  since  then  had  had  an 
opposite  effect.  He  was  closely  shielded  now, 
with  servants  to  watch  and  care  for  him,  and  no 

36 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

opportunity  whatever  to  assert  the  independence 
of  thought  and  action  that  is  natural  to  every 
healthy  normal  boy. 

When  Betty,  therefore,  declared  that  his  grand- 
father would  be  awaiting  him  at  the  Pennsyl- 
vania Railroad  Station  in  Jersey  City  he  was 
surprised,  but  supposed  her  to  be  right.  His 
chief  thought  now  was  to  reach  him  and  tell  him 
of  the  dreadful  fate  that  had  overtaken  the 
faithful  Thomas.  The  people  in  the  house  who 
were  with  Thomas  now  were  scrubbing-women 
and  the  man  and  his  wife  who  were  left  in  charge 
of  the  house  when  General  Keith  was  out  of  town. 
As  Chris  had  told  Betty,  the  other  servants  had 
started  for  Maybury  by  an  early  train.  The 
carriage  which  had  been  ordered  to  take  the  boy 
to  the  station  was  now  waiting  at  the  door. 
Christopher  went  up-stairs  and  told  one  of  the 
women  that  he  was  going  to  the  station  to  get 
General  Keith  and  would  soon  be  back.  He 
asked  about  Thomas,  and  learned  that  he  was  still 
unconscious.  This  made  him  all  the  more  anx- 
ious to  see  his  grandfather,  and  he  turned  and 
hurried  down  to  the  front  door,  where  Betty  was 
awaiting  him.  He  did  not  mention  her  to  the 
woman,  and  as  Thomas  had  opened  the  door 
for  her  no  one  else  knew  that  she  was  there. 
The  two  children  went  down  the  steps  and  en- 
tered the  carriage. 

37 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

"Pennsylvania  depot,  Jersey  City,"  said  Chris- 
topher, very  grandly. 

"Any  baggage?"  asked  the  driver. 

"No,  and  please  drive  as  fast  as  you  can.  It 
is  very  important." 

The  cabman  touched  his  hat,  and  as  he  was  a 
good-natured  cabby  he  smiled,  feeling  sorry  for 
the  little  chap's  lameness.  He  slammed  the 
door,  mounted  the  box,  and  presently  they  were 
driving  rapidly  down  Madison  Avenue.  Instead 
of  turning  off  when  they  reached  the  Grand 
Central  Station,  and  thus  taking  Christopher  to 
the  place  where  his  grandfather  was  already  im- 
patiently awaiting  him,  he  continued  on  to 
Twenty-third  Street,  and,  turning  to  the  right, 
proceeded  as  fast  as  he  could  in  the  direction  of 
the  Hudson  River. 

"It  is  the  queerest  thing  that  we  should  be 
coming  down  here,"  said  Chris,  looking  out  of 
the  window  as  they  drove  up  to  the  ferry-house. 
"  I  didn't  know  we  had  to  cross  the  ferry.  Grand- 
father never  said  a  word  about  that.  Do  you 
suppose  he  will  be  waiting  on  this  side  of  the 
river  or  the  other?" 

"Did  he  say  you  were  to  meet  in  the  station?" 

"Yes." 

"Then,  of  course,  he  meant  the  other  side.  He 
would  have  said  this  side  if  he  had  meant  it. 
You  told  me  he  had  gone  down-town,  so  of 

38 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

course  he  will  cross  over  by  one  of  the  lower 
ferries.  They  take  you  to  the  Pennsylvania 
Station,  too." 

"  Betty,  what  a  lot  you  know  about  the  sta- 
tions!" said  Chris,  admiringly. 

"Well,  you  see,  I  have  lived  in  New  York  my 
whole  life  long,  and  I  have  often  been  to  Phila- 
delphia to  stay  with  my  aunt  at  Chestnut  Hill. 
It  is  a  most  fortunate  thing  you  told  me  that  your 
grandfather  wanted  to  see  some  one  who  lives 
at  Chestnut  Hill.  If  you  hadn't  we  should  have 
gone  to  the  Grand  Central  Station  and  waited 
there  ages  and  ages,  and  your  grandfather  would 
have  been  waiting  down  here.  Wouldn't  he  have 
been  mad,  though!" 

"It  is  a  good  thing  you  came  along,  Betty, 
to  tell  me.  Grandfather  will  be  ever  and  ever 
so  much  obliged  to  you." 

He  paid  the  driver  (Christopher  was  always 
well  supplied  with  money),  and  they  walked 
through  the  ferry-house  and  to  the  boat,  which 
had  just  come  into  the  slip.  The  crowd  of  pas- 
sengers had  disembarked,  and  another  but  similar 
crowd  was  hastening  on  board.  It  was  all  very 
interesting,  not  to  say  thrilling,  and  the  children 
for  a  time  quite  forgot  Thomas  in  the  excitement 
of  finding  sheltered  seats  on  the  upper  deck. 
The  day  was  mild  and  clear.  The  river  was  full 
of  craft  of  all  kinds.  An  ocean  liner  was  aj> 

39 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

preaching  its  berth,  an  armored  cruiser  lay  an- 
chored in  mid-stream,  a  French  battle-ship  that 
was  visiting  our  shores  was  an  object  of  interest 
to  every  one.  Ferry-boats,  like  huge  living  creat- 
ures, crawled  across  the  broad  water.  There  was 
a  great,  flat  transportation-boat  with  a  whole 
train  of  cars  on  it,  and  there  were  sail-boats, 
tug-boats,  fire-boats,  and  steamers.  And  the  sky 
was  blue  and  the  river  was  blue,  and  everywhere 
flags  were  flying  against  the  blue,  and  down- 
stream could  be  seen  the  Statue  of  Liberty,  and 
on  the  New  York  side  great  business  buildings, 
stretching  upward  their  interminable  height,  and 
on  the  Jersey  side  was  the  smoke  of  railroads  and 
factories,  and  everywhere  the  signs  of  life — life 
that  must  be  lived  to  the  uttermost  degree  of 
activity,  where  all  who  lived  must  hurry  and 
work,  work  and  hurry,  or  else  be  called  a  failure. 
Chris  and  Betty  did  not  waste  time  in  any  such 
reflections  as  these.  There  was  too  much  to  be 
watched  and  commented  upon,  even  had  anything 
of  the  kind  occurred  to  them.  Betty  in  par- 
ticular had  entirely  forgotten  that  she  had  any 
duty  in  the  world  but  that  of  accompanying 
Christopher,  or  any  other  claims  upon  her  atten- 
tion. Oddly  enough,  it  was  the  sight  of  the  French 
battle-ship  which  recalled  to  her  the  thought  of 
her  own  family.  "Goody!  Goody!"  she  cried, 
her  favorite  form  of  exclamation. 

40 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Chris. 

"I  never  thought  to  leave  word  for  Marie! 
She  was  to  come  back  for  me  after  she  went  to 
see  her  cousin  in  Third  Avenue.  She  won't 
know  where  I've  gone." 

"Oh,  they  will  tell  her,"  said  the  boy,  reassur- 
ingly. "I  told  Mrs.  McGuire,  the  scrubbing- 
woman,  that  we  were  going  to  the  station.  Of 
course,  she  will  tell  Marie,  and  she'll  know  we  will 
get  you  home  from  there.  You  will  be  a  little 
late,  but  I  don't  believe  your  mother  will  be 
worried,  do  you?" 

"Mamma  won't  know  anything  about  it  until 
I  get  back,  for  she  has  gone  to  lunch  with  Aunt 
Edith,  so,  of  course,  I  shall  get  home  long  before 
she  does." 

"Oh,  that  is  all  right  then.  You  needn't 
worry  about  that.  And  it's  fun  to  come  way 
down  here,  just  we  two,  isn't  it,  Betty?  I'm 
never  allowed  to  go  anywhere  alone." 

"I'm  not,  either,  and  it's  such  a  bore  to  have 
a  maid  tagging  round  after  you.  Gertrude  is 
such  a  strict  person,  too." 

"Thomas  isn't.  Thomas  is  very  nice,  and  I 
do  wish  he  hadn't  hurt  himself.  I  wonder  how 
he  is  now." 

"Probably  he  is  ever  so  much  better  by  this 
time.  I  suppose  Marie  has  been  there  and  has 
gone  home.  She  isn't  at  all  strict,  but  the  worst 

41 


of  her  is  that  I'm  not  allowed  to  speak  English 
when  she  is  with  me,  and  I  do  hate  talking 
French." 

"Oh,  I  don't!  I  love  it.  I  have  been  taking 
lessons  ever  since  I  came  to  live  with  grand- 
father. He  speaks  it  just  like  a  Frenchman, 
and  while  we  were  abroad  I  was  studying  it  and 
talking  it  all  the  time,  and  very  often  he  and  I 
speak  it  over  here.  Let's  do  it  now." 

"Oh  no!"  cried  Betty;  "I'm  only  too  glad 
not  to  have  to,  as  long  as  Marie  isn't  here." 

They  were  silent  for  a  little  while.  The  boat 
ploughed  its  way  through  the  water,  lifting  its 
hoarse  voice  to  respond  to  the  greetings  of  sister- 
boats,  and  gradually  drawing  nearer  to  the  Jersey 
side.  Chris  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"It  seems  ever  so  long  since  we  left  the  house, 
Betty.  I  hope  we  sha'n't  keep  grandfather  wait- 
ing very  long.  He  hates  so  to  wait  for  people." 

"Oh,  we  shall  get  there  by  half-past  two. 
See,  we  are  getting  to  the  slip  now.  Look  out 
for  the  bump  when  we  touch  the  dock." 

The  bump  safely  a  thing  of  the  past,  they 
walked  along  the  lengthy  passageway  which  led 
to  the  station.  They  followed  the  throng  into 
the  waiting-room,  and  began  eagerly  to  look  for 
General  Keith. 

"He  will  probably  be  near  the  doors  that  lead 
to  the  Philadelphia  trains,"  said  Christopher. 

42 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

There  were  several  such  doors,  for  there  seemed 
to  be  several  trains  that  would  soon  start  for 
Philadelphia,  through  trains  to  Washington  and 
the  South,  express  trains  and  accommodation 
trains,  with  but  a  small  difference  in  their  hours 
of  departure.  General  Keith  was  nowhere  to  be 
found. 

"He  hasn't  come  yet,"  said  Betty;  "you  see, 
we  had  plenty  of  time.  It  isn't  half-past  two 
yet;  only  a  quarter  past.  That  man  drove  so 
nice  and  fast." 

"It's  perfectly  wonderful  that  we  got  here 
first,"  said  Christopher,  very  much  pleased  that 
such  should  have  been  the  case.  "Grandfather 
says  soldiers  should  always  be  prompt.  Of  course, 
I  can  never  be  a  soldier.  I  only  wish  I  could" 
(he  sighed  as  he  spoke),  "but  I  can  act  like  one, 
grandfather  says." 

"I'm  rather  glad  you  can't  be,"  rejoined  Betty. 
"  It  would  be  awful  to  have  you  go  to  the  war  and 
be  killed." 

"I  don't  believe  there'll  ever  be  another  war," 
said  the  boy,  somewhat  regretfully,  but  pleased, 
on  the  whole,  that  Betty  preferred  that  he  should 
not  be  killed. 

"You  can't  tell,  because  papa  says  we  are  a 
world  power  now,  and  no  one  knows  what  will 
happen.  But  I  should  think  you  would  rather  be 
in  the  navy,  and  that  was  such  a  splendid  cruiser 

43 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

we  saw  this  morning.  Just  think  how  much 
more  fun  it  must  be  to  go  to  sea  and  smash  up 
other  ships  than  just  stay  on  land  to  fight!" 

Christopher,  the  grandson  of  an  old  soldier, 
was  not  prepared  to  agree  to  this,  and  in  a  friendly 
argument  as  to  the  superior  merits  of  the  two 
branches  of  the  service  the  time  passed  rapidly 
away,  and  they  were  surprised  presently  to  find 
that  it  was  twenty  minutes  of  three  and  still  the 
General  had  not  come. 

"I  am  afraid  there  has  been  some  mistake," 
said  Christopher,  "or  perhaps  something  has 
happened  to  grandfather,  too.  He  may  have 
had  an  accident.  Or  perhaps,  after  all,  he  is 
waiting  on  the  other  side  of  the  river." 

"Oh,  I  don't  believe  so,"  said  Betty.  In  her 
efforts  to  make  her  words  very  reassuring  she 
raised  her  voice  and  spoke  with  even  more  than 
her  customary  clearness.  She  had  frequently 
been  told  that  she  spoke  too  loud,  but  she  forgot 
these  admonitions,  and  what  she  said  was  per- 
fectly audible  to  the  persons  sitting  near.  "You 
may  depend  upon  it,  Chris,  General  Keith  will 
be  here  soon.  If  he  doesn't  come  he  will  send 
you  word  and  tell  you  where  to  go  to  meet  him. 
I  suppose  business  has  kept  him;  it  often  does 
papa.  And  I'll  stay  with  you  until  he  comes,  as 
sure  as  my  name  is  Betty  Hamilton." 

"It  is  awfully  good  of  you,"  said  the  boy. 

44 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

"But  I  can't  help  feeling  we  have  made  a  mistake. 
I  think  we  ought  to  have  gone  to  the  other  sta- 
tion or  stayed  on  the  New  York  side." 

"Christopher  Lovel!"  exclaimed  Betty,  in- 
dignantly, "you  are  a  perfect  goose  to  think 
that.  Of  course  it  is  this  station,  and  you  see 
if  I'm  not  right!  General  Keith  will  either  come 
himself  very  soon,  or  send  some  man  or  somebody 
to  get  you." 

In  a  short  time  her  words  were  apparently 
verified.  General  Keith  did  not  arrive,  but  a 
man,  well  dressed  and  with  exceedingly  good 
manners,  walked  up  to  the  bench  where  they 
were  sitting. 

"Are  you  Christopher  Lovel?"  he  asked. 

"Yes!"  cried  Christopher,  eagerly.  "Did  my 
grandfather  send  you  to  find  me?" 

"He  did.  Your  grandfather,  General  Keith. 
He  has  been  detained  by  business,  and  will  not 
start  to-day.  He  wants  you  to  meet  him.  I 
will  take  you  to  him." 

"Down-town?"  asked  the  boy.  "Is  he  still 
down-town?" 

"He  is  still  down-town." 

"Oh,  that  is  all  right.  Thomas  isn't  here,  you 
see." 

"I  see  he  isn't,"  said  the  man. 

"This  is  my  friend  Betty  Hamilton.  She 
came  down  with  me." 

45 


MISS    BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

The  man  took  off  his  hat  to  Betty  with  the 
greatest  politeness.  She  was  immensely  pleased. 

"I  will  keep  with  you,  Chris,"  she  said.  "I 
am  afraid  I  couldn't  find  my  way  home  alone." 

"By  all  means  keep  with  us,  Miss  Betty,"  said 
the  man.  "The  General  would  much  prefer 
that  you  should  do  so.  Come  this  way,  if  you 
please.  We  go  out  by  this  door." 

"Don't  we  go  to  the  ferry?"  asked  Betty,  in 
surprise. 

"Not  that  ferry.    We  go  to  another." 

They  left  the  waiting-room,  not  unnoticed  by 
the  persons  who  had  been  sitting  near  them. 
The  lame  boy  with  the  golden  hair  and  the  blue 
eyes  was  one  whom  people  frequently  turned  to 
look  at  a  second  time.  Betty,  too,  was  unusual 
looking.  She  carried  herself  well,  and  her  bright, 
alert  look,  her  short,  red  curls,  her  general  air  of 
distinction,  made  her  noticeable.  A  woman  who 
had  missed  her  train  saw  them  walk  away. 

"I  am  glad  some  one  has  come  for  those  chil- 
dren at  last,"  she  said  to  herself.  "I  thought 
they  couldn't  be  brother  and  sister.  They  don't 
look  a  bit  alike.  I  thought  it  was  funny  that 
children  of  that  class  should  be  waiting  here 
alone  so  long.  I  suppose  he  is  the  grandson  of 
the  famous  General  Keith,  such  a  brave  soldier 
and  yet  so  rich.  Well,  that  boy  will  have  a  lot 
of  money,  and  p'r'aps  that  will  make  up  some- 

46 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

what  for  his  being  lame;  but  it's  too  bad  he  has 
to  limp.  He's  got  a  lovely  face,  though.  It's 
more  than  the  man  has  who  came  for  them; 
there  was  something  queer  about  him.  I  won- 
der, now,  if  he  really  was  sent  after  the  boy,  as  he 
said." 


MARIE  found  "sa  cousine"  who  lived  on 
Third  Avenue  so  entertaining  and  so  glad 
to  see  her  that  she  was  persuaded  to  lengthen 
her  call  until  it  far  exceeded  the  ten  or  fifteen 
minutes  which  she  had  promised  herself;  in 
fact,  it  was  a  quarter  of  two  by  a  slow  clock 
before  she  could  tear  herself  from  the  family 
circle,  and  it  was  with  reluctant  footsteps  even 
then  that  she  pursued  her  way  back  to  Madison 
Avenue.  She  was  accompanied  by  Jean,  who 
was  employed  at  one  of  the  hotels,  and  whose 
mid-day  hour  of  freedom  had  coincided  very 
nicely  and  conveniently  with  Marie's  call.  In 
such  society  the  walk  was  all  too  short,  and  it 
was  with  a  heavy  sigh  that  Marie  finally  bade 
him  farewell  at  the  corner,  and  with  a  mind  full 
of  many  more  interesting  affairs  than  those  of 
"Mademoiselle  Betti"  she  mounted  the  steps  of 
General  Keith's  house. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  the  door  was  opened 
in  response  to  her  repeated  ringing  of  the  bell.  At 
last  one  of  the  scrubbing-women  came  to  the  door. 

48 


MISS    BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

"Mademoiselle  Betti  Ameeltone,"  said  Marie, 
in  her  broken  English,  "eez  ze  here?  Zay  to  her, 
eef  you  please,  zat  Marie  eez  come." 

"Sure  an'  I  don't  know  what  yer  afther,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  McGuire.  "There  ain't  no  such  person 
livin'  here.  Yer  at  the  wrong  house." 

She  was  about  to  close  the  door  in  summary 
fashion  when  Marie  interposed. 

"Zee  eez  come  to  make  her  adieux  to — to — 
what  eez  his  name?  I  haf  forgotten  how  he 
calls  himself,  but  it  eez  zee  leetle  lame  boy." 

"Master  Christopher  yer  afther  talkin'  about, 
I'll  warrant,  though  how  any  Christian  body's  to 
understand  yer  dago  lingo  is  more  than  I  know. 
Well,  he's  out,  an'  I  ain't  seen  no  young  lady, 
an'  there  ain't  none  been  here.  An'  I'll  thank 
yer  not  to  keep  me  standin'  here  when  Thomas 
is  dead  already  for  aught  I  know,  an'  the  Gin- 
eral  '11  be  home  soon,  an'  there'll  be  row  enough. 
The  saints  presarve  us  if  there  ain't  some  one 
a-callin'  me  now!  No,  she  ain't  here.  Try  next 
door."  And  General  Keith's  front  door  was 
closed  with  a  bang. 

But  Marie  did  not  try  next  door.  She  knew 
that  it  was  this  house  which  her  charge  had  en- 
tered, for  it  was  unlike  all  the  other  houses  in 
the  block  and  she  could  not  mistake  it.  As  the 
boy  was  out  she  concluded  that  Betty  had  gone 

home  without  waiting  for  her,  so  she  walked 
49 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

down  Madison  Avenue  rather  quickly,  knowing 
that  it  was  quite  against  the  rules  for  the  little 
girl  to  be  out  alone,  and  feeling  very  glad  that 
Mrs.  Hamilton  and  the  tyrannical  Gertrude  were 
both  absent.  When  she  reached  the  house,  how- 
ever, and  upon  inquiry  found  that  Betty  had 
not  come  in,  her  complacency  received  a  severe 
shock.  It  was  in  no  way  lessened  by  the  attitude 
toward  her  of  the  other  servants.  Marie  was  not 
popular,  and  this  was  an  opportunity  not  to  be 
lost.  They  gathered  about  her — the  cook,  the 
laundress,  the  chambermaid,  and  even  William, 
whom  she  had  supposed  to  be  an  admirer — and 
upbraided  her  for  the  absence  of  Miss  Betty. 
They  painted  in  glowing  and  frightful  colors  the 
wrath  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  when  Marie's 
delinquency  should  be  discovered.  They  were 
all  Irish  except  the  butler,  and  he  was  English. 
Not  one  of  them  could  tolerate  the  French  maid. 
She  felt  herself  an  alien  in  a  strange  land.  The 
charms  of  the  family  circle  in  Third  Avenue,  with 
the  daily  calls  of  Jean,  took  possession  of  her 
mind.  Her  wages  had  been  paid  that  morning. 
There  was  nothing,  therefore,  to  prevent  her  de- 
parture. She  went  up  to  her  room,  and  presently, 
when  no  one  was  looking,  when  all  the  servants 
were  still  holding  an  indignant  conclave  in  the 
basement,  she  stole  down  the  front  stairs  and  out 
of  the  front  door,  carrying  her  possessions  in  the 

50 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

two  neat  suit-cases  which  had  brought  them. 
She  turned  in  the  direction  that  led  her  away 
from  the  view  of  the  basement  windows,  and  soon 
Marie  was  lost  in  the  crowd  and  was  well  on  her 
way  to  the  haven  of  Third  Avenue,  congratu- 
lating herself  as  she  went  that  no  one  in  the 
Hamilton  household  knew  that  she  had  friends 
there.  They  would  never  find  her. 

It  happened  that  not  one  of  the  family  was  at 
home  at  luncheon  that  day. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  came  in  at  about  half-past 
three,  and  was  told  at  once  of  the  absence  of 
Betty.  She  sent  for  Marie,  and  William  de- 
spatched the  chambermaid  to  call  her  to  the 
presence  of  her  mistress.  Nora  returned  from 
her  errand  with  flying  feet. 

"She  ain't  there,  Mrs.  Hamilton!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "She  ain't  there,  and  none  of  her 
things  ain't  there!  She's  gone,  and  she's  took 
everything  she  owned!  There  ain't  so  much  as  a 
pin  left." 

Further  investigation  proved  this  to  be  true, 
and  Mrs.  Hamilton  felt  puzzled.  She  was  not 
yet  alarmed,  for  she  supposed  that  Betty  had 
done  just  what  the  servants  had  thought — she 
had  gone  home  with  one  of  her  school-mates  and 
evaded  Marie  altogether.  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  an- 
noyed, however.  She  was  surprised  that  Betty 
should  have  done  something  which  was  clearly 

51 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

against  rules,  for  the  children  were  expected  al- 
ways to  ask  permission  to  go  out  to  luncheon, 
and  Betty  had  never  transgressed  this  law  be- 
fore. As  to  the  departure  of  Marie,  perhaps  it 
was  just  as  well,  for  she  had  made  herself  so 
much  disliked  in  the  household  that  no  doubt 
dismissal  would  have  been  necessary  eventually. 
Mrs.  Hamilton  smiled  to  herself  when  she  pictured 
Gertrude's  triumph,  upon  her  return,  to  discover 
all  her  predictions  verified. 

At  about  four  o'clock  Pauline  came  home. 
She  found  her  mother  in  her  own  room  and 
alone,  and  she  sat  down  as  close  to  her  as  she 
could  place  her  chair,  delighted  at  the  thought 
of  "a  good  talk  with  mamma  without  one  of  the 
other  children." 

"Where  did  Betty  go  to  lunch,  Pauline?" 
asked  Mrs.  Hamilton. 

"Betty!  Why,  nowhere.  She  came  home 
with  Marie." 

"No,  my  dear,  she  didn't.  Marie  came  home 
without  her." 

"Then  she  must  know  where  she  is,  for  she 
left  school  with  her.  Marie  helped  me  on  with 
my  things,  and  Betty  was  there  with  us.  She 
got  my  gloves  by  mistake.  She  didn't  say  any- 
thing about  going  anywhere  to  lunch,  and  I 
don't  think  she  would,  mamma,  without  asking 
you.  Betty  never  does.  I  saw  her  going  along 

52 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

toward  Madison  Avenue  with  Marie  when  I  came 
out.  Alice  and  I  turned  toward  Fifth  Avenue, 
you  know,  to  go  to  her  house." 

"Are  you  sure  you  saw  Betty  with  Marie, 
Pauline?"  asked  her  mother,  now  feeling  a  vague 
alarm. 

"Why,  of  course,  I  am,  mamma!  Isn't  Marie 
at  home?  Why  don't  you  ask  her  where  she 
left  Betty?" 

"Marie  has  gone!  She —  Oh,  Pauline,  how 
stupid  I  have  been!  Of  course,  I  see  it  all  now! 
Something  has  happened,  and  Marie  was  afraid 
to  tell  it  and  has  run  away,  and  I  have  been 
sitting  here  quietly  and  have  lost  all  this  time. 
Oh,  my  dear,  help  me  to  think !  What  shall  we 
do  first?" 

"I  think  the  first  thing  we  had  better  do  is  to 
telephone  to  papa,"  said  Pauline.  "Don't  worry, 
mamma.  It  is  probably  all  right,  and  Betty  may 
come  in  any  time.  Dear  mamma,  don't  look  so 
frightened." 

Pauline  went  to  the  telephone,  and  soon  re- 
turned with  a  message  from  her  father. 

"He  is  coming  right  home;  but  he  says  we 
must  telephone  to  all  of  Betty's  friends,  every 
one  we  can  think  of,  and  ask  if  they  know  where 
she  went.  But  he  says  she  will  probably  be  home 
soon,  only  we  had  better  not  take  any  chances. 

And  he  says  not  to  worry,  because  it  is  just  like 
53 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

Betty  to  take  us  by  surprise;  but  we  had  better 
send  William  to  Marie's  friends  and  find  out 
where  she  is,  and  to  look  and  see  if  she  has  stolen 
anything." 

Very  soon  these  matters  were  all  set  in  train, 
but  with  small  result.  Betty's  school-mates  had 
been  communicated  with,  but  as  yet  no  one 
had  seen  her.  William  returned  from  the  only 
friends  that  Marie  was  supposed  to  have,  and 
they  knew  nothing  about  her.  And  so  far  as 
anything  could  be  discovered,  nothing  had  been 
stolen  from  the  Hamilton  household,  "though 
that's  a  thing  you  don't  find  out  for  a  long  while," 
said  the  cook,  oracularly,  "what  with  the  hand- 
kerchiefs and  the  collars  and  the  bits  of  lace  she 
might  pocket  as  easy  as  yer  please." 

But  Mrs.  Hamilton  felt  as  though  theft  were  a 
small  matter.  Where  was  Betty,  her  youngest, 
her  baby,  the  child  so  carefully  shielded  and 
guarded,  whose  very  mischief  and  fun  made  her 
so  dear  to  all?  There  was  nothing  to  be  done 
now  but  wait  for  Mr.  Hamilton  to  come,  and  to 
watch  from  the  window  for  Betty,  while  Pauline 
stood  at  the  telephone  and  eagerly  called  up 
house  after  house,  only  to  receive  the  unvarying 
reply:  "No,  she  has  not  been  here  to-day.  .  .  . 
Yes,  I  am  quite  sure." 

It  was  about  half-past  four  o'clock  when  Mr. 
Hamilton  reached  home.  Mrs.  Hamilton  saw 

54 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

him  coming,  and  ran  down-stairs  to  open  the  door 
herself. 

"She  hasn't  come  home?"  he  asked,  but  he 
was  answered  even  before  he  spoke.  One  look 
at  his  wife's  face  was  enough.  "My  dear,  you 
needn't  be  so  frightened.  You  know,  Betty  is 
always  up  to  mischief,  and  you  know  how  she 
forgets  time.  I  am  pretty  sure  she  will  come 
walking  in  very  soon,  and  we  shall  have  had  all 
our  fright  for  nothing." 

"I  am  not  sure  that  she  will,  Charlie,  and 
neither  are  you.  Betty  is  mischievous,  but  she 
is  never  directly  disobedient,  and  the  very  fact 
that  Marie  has  disappeared  shows  that  some- 
thing is  quite  wrong.  She  has  not  taken  any- 
thing. She  has  just  vanished.  I  am  sure  some- 
thing has  happened  and  she  was  afraid  to  tell  it, 
and —  What's  that?  Did  a  carriage  stop? 
Pauline,  is  it — is  it — " 

"It  is  an  old  gentleman,  mamma.  He  is  get- 
ting out  and  coming  up  the  steps." 

"I  can't  see  any  one,  Charlie.  Please  tell 
William." 

Mr.  Hamilton  went  out  into  the  hall,  but  the 
man  had  already  opened  the  door. 

"I  must  see  Mrs.  Hamilton  at  once  or  any  one 
who  is  at  home.  It  is  most  important — " 

Mr.  Hamilton  heard  that  much,  and  then  went 
forward. 

55 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

"General  Keith!"  he  exclaimed,  in  surprise. 
"What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"You  can  help  me  to  find  my  grandson.  He  is 
here,  I  suppose,"  said  the  General,  sharply.  "I 
cannot  understand  the  matter  at  all.  Christo- 
pher wished  to  come,  I  could  see  that,  but  that 
he  should  do  so  when  I  expressly  forbade  it,  when 
I  made  all  my  arrangements  to  leave  town,  and 
actually  went  to  the  station  and  waited  an  hour — " 

"Christopher  is  not  here,  General  Keith,"  in- 
terposed Mrs.  Hamilton,  from  the  door  of  the 
parlor.  "He  has  not  been  here  to-day." 

"What!"  thundered  the  old  man.  "Not  here? 
Then  where  is  he?" 

There  was  a  moment's  breathless  silence.  It 
was  Pauline  who  broke  it. 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  she,  "if  they  were 
together  and  have  gotten  lost." 

"If  who  were  together?"  demanded  the  Gen- 
eral, turning  upon  her.  He  had  not  even  seen 
her  until  she  spoke. 

"Betty  and  Chris." 

''Precisely  what  I  said  myself.  Will  you 
kindly  tell  me,  without  further  unnecessary  delay, 
where  that  child  is  —  that  girl?  She  has  led 
Christopher  into  danger  before  this.  Now,  where 
is  she?  When  I  heard  she  had  been  at  the  house 
I  knew  she  was  at  the  bottom  of  it  all.  Why,  I 
have  been  waiting — " 

56 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

"Was  my  daughter  at  your  house  to-day, 
General  Keith?" 

"Of  course  she  was.  Haven't  I  said  so  more 
than  once?" 

"Will  you  be  good  enough  to  tell  me  exactly 
when  she  was  there?"  asked  Mr.  Hamilton.  "We 
are  very  much  alarmed  by  her  absence,  and  until 
you  told  us  this  we  have  not  had  the  slightest 
clew  to  her  whereabouts  since  she  left  school. 
Mrs.  Hamilton  is  exceedingly  anxious,  as  you 
must  see.  Perhaps  if  we  were  to  talk  the  matter 
over  we  could  agree  upon  some  plan  for  tracing 
the  children.  How  long  ago  did  you  discover 
that  the  boy  was  missing?" 

His  serious  face,  his  concerned  voice,  no  less 
than  his  quiet  manner,  made  an  impression  upon 
the  irascible  General.  He  controlled  his  ill- 
temper,  and,  following  Mrs.  Hamilton  into  the 
parlor,  he  took  the  chair  which  Mr.  Hamilton 
drew  up  for  him.  They  all  sat  down. 

"I  made  all  my  arrangements  to  go  to  May- 
bury  to-day,"  he  said.  "It  was  a  rather  sudden 
determination,  but  for  many  reasons  it  seemed 
best  to  go.  As  it  has  turned  out,  I  might  just 
as  well  have  stayed — but  no  matter.  We  were 
going.  I  was  obliged  to  go  down  to  Wall  Street, 
and  I  left  directions  for  Thomas,  my  man,  to 
bring  Christopher  to  the  Grand  Central  Station 
and  to  be  there  promptly  at  half-past  two.  We 

57 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

were  to  take  the  three  o'clock  limited,  but  I 
wished  them  to  be  there  in  good  season.  I 
waited  there  until  long  after  three  o'clock.  They 
did  not  come.  I  went  to  my  house,  and  found 
that  Thomas  had  fallen  from  a  step-ladder. 
What  he  was  up  on  a  ladder  for  when  he  was 
about  to  start  for  Boston,  /  don't  know.  But 
there  he  was;  he  had  fallen  from  a  step-ladder, 
and  knocked  his  head  in  some  way,  and  there- 
fore became  unconscious — fainted — and  they  all 
thought  he  was  dead;  none  but  ignorant  char- 
people  about,  all  the  other  servants  gone  to  May- 
bury,  and  great  delay  in  finding  a  doctor.  Chris- 
topher told  one  of  the  women  he  would  go  to 
the  station  and  meet  me,  and  it  seemed  he  started 
off  in  a  carriage — by  himself,  she  supposed.  I 
have  seen  the  stable  people,  and  the  man  who 
drove  him  is  off  on  another  trip.  They  are  to 
send  him  to  me  as  soon  as  he  comes  in.  In  the 
mean  time  Thomas  has  come  to.  He  isn't  much 
hurt — just  enough  to  have  caused  all  this  trouble 
— and  he  says  that  a  little  girl  came  to  say  good- 
bye to  Christopher  just  before  he  fell,  and  that 
it  was  your  daughter.  That  was  enough  for  me. 
I  knew  at  once  that  Miss  Betty  Hamilton,  with 
her  well-known  propensity  for  getting  herself 
and  other  people  into  mischief,  had  prevailed 
upon  him  to  do  something  he  ought  not  to 
do,  and  had  led  him  into  some  scrape,  and 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

so  I  came  to  you  at  once.  Now,  where  are 
they?" 

"We  haven't  the  least  idea,"  said  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton, "but  I  think  we  are  nearer  to  finding  out 
than  we  were  before.  The  coachman — " 

Mrs.  Hamilton  interrupted  him.  "General 
Keith,"  she  said,  "I  cannot  permit  you  to  speak 
so  severely  of  Betty.  She  is  never  disobedient." 

"Disobedient  or  not,  she  is  very  mischievous," 
replied  General  Keith.  "My  dear  madam,  you 
perhaps  did  not  hear  of  the  dance  she  led  my 
nephew  by  means  of  a  bogus  telegram  last  sum- 
mer?" 

"I  think  we  are  wasting  time,"  said  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton. "General,  if  you  will  give  me  the  name  of 
the  livery-stable,  I  will  telephone  there  and  find 
out  if  the  man  has  come  in.  It  will  save  time 
if  they  will  telephone  here  instead  of  to  your 
house.  Have  I  your  permission  to  do  this?" 

"Certainly;  certainly.  I  detest  telephones, 
but  they  have  their  uses,  after  all." 

Mr.  Hamilton  went  to  the  instrument  in  the 
hall.  Presently  General  Keith  turned  to  Betty's 
mother. 

"You  must  pardon  me,"  he  said,  with  his 
most  courtly  manner,  "if  I  spoke  hastily  in  re- 
gard to  your  daughter.  I  am  very  much  alarmed 
about  my  grandson.  He  is  lame,  and  he  is  quite 
ignorant  of  New  York.  And  he  is  all  I  have." 

59 


MISS  BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

"Yes,  oh  yes!  I  understand,"  said  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton. "We  both  have  cause  to  be  anxious. 
We  must  not  quarrel.'  She  tried  to  smile  as 
she  spoke. 

They  were  silent  again  until  Mr.  Hamilton 
came  hurriedly  into  the  room.  "The  coachman 
has  just  come  in,"  he  said.  "I  have  been  speak- 
ing to  him  myself.  He  drove  a  lame  boy  and  a 
little  girl  about  the  same  age,  with  red,  curly 
hair,  to  the  Twenty-third  Street  ferry.  They 
were  going  to  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  Station. 
He  watched  them  go  on  board  the  boat  before 
he  left  the  ferry-house.  Of  course,  it  was  Betty 
and  Christopher." 

General  Keith  started  to  his  feet.  "The 
Pennsylvania  Station!"  he  exclaimed.  "And  I 
said  so  distinctly  the  Grand  Central!  What 
did  the  boy  mean?" 

"Suppose  we  go  right  down  there  together, 
General.  Then  we  can  find  out.  I  will  order  a 
motor-cab." 

And  in  a  very  few  minutes  they  were  off,  and 
Mrs.  Hamilton  and  Pauline  were  left  to  their 
weary  waiting.  And  presently  Charles  came 
home  and  then  Florence,  and  to  each  was  told 
the  story.  They  all  tried  to  comfort  and  en- 
courage one  another,  but  it  was  not  easy.  If 
the  children  had  gone  to  the  wrong  station  they 
must  long  since  have  discovered  their  mistake. 

60 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

Why,  then,  had  they  not  come  home?  And  so 
the  time  wore  away,  and  no  one  came,  nor  was 
there  any  message.  It  was  no  wonder  that  the 
waiting  family  grew  more  and  more  anxious. 

But  Mr.  Hamilton  and  General  Keith  had  dis- 
covered something  which  was  so  alarming  that 
Betty's  father  dared  not  telephone  to  his  wife 
at  all,  lest  he  should  betray  it  in  some  way.  A 
woman  sitting  in  the  station  and  watching  the 
two  gentlemen  as  they  made  inquiries  of  the  offi- 
cials had  stopped  them  as  they  passed  her. 

"Are  you  looking  for  a  lame  boy  and  a  girl 
with  red  curls?"  she  asked,  hesitatingly.  "There, 
I  thought  so.  I  suspected  there  was  something 
wrong  when  I  saw  them  go  off  with  him.  A  man 
came  up  to  them  and  said  some  general — General 
Keith,  I  think  he  said,  though  I  won't  be  certain — 
had  sent  him  after  them.  A  tall,  dark-haired 
man  in  good  clothes,  but  something  queer  about 
him.  They  all  went  out  that  door.  ...  Oh  no, 
I  thank  you!  I'm  glad  if  I've  been  of  any  use. 
He  had  dark  hair  and  no  mustache  and  awful 
big  ears.  That's  all  I  could  say  of  his  looks. 
(There,"  she  added,  to  herself,  "I  was  mad  enough 
about  missing  my  train  and  having  to  wait  three 
hours  for  another,  but  I  guess  there  was  some 
good  purpose  in  it,  after  all,  if  I've  set  those  gen- 
tlemen on  the  right  track  to  find  their  children. 
My,  but  it's  awful  what  things  are  done  nowa- 

61 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW  YORK 

days!  I  dare  say  it  '11  all  be  in  the  papers  to- 
morrow. That  General  Keith  is  so  rich,  and  I 
suppose  the  scoundrel  wants  the  reward.  And 
I'm  glad  that  nice  gentleman  took  my  name  and 
address.  It  will  be  quite  a  journey  if  I  have  to 
come  to  the  city  to  identify  the  wretch,  but  I'd 
go  farther  than  that  to  bring  such  a  scamp  as 
he  must  be  to  justice.  Stealing  children  like 
that!  I  thought  at  the  time  he  was  queer  look- 
ing.") 


WHEN  Betty  and  Christopher,  accompanied 
by  their  new  friend,  left  the  station,  they 
started  off  on  a  brisk  walk  through  the  streets 
of  Jersey  City. 

"You  won't  mind  a  little  walk,  I  suppose, 
after  sitting  still  so  long,"  said  their  guide,  in 
his  very  polite  way. 

Betty  considered  him  quite  the  most  polite  per- 
son she  had  ever  known.  The  way  in  which  he 
stepped  aside  and  let  her  go  through  a  door  first, 
and  the  courtly  manner  with  which  he  touched 
her  elbow  to  guide  her  over  a  muddy  crossing, 
made  a  profound  impression  on  her.  She  had 
never  noticed  before  that  gentlemen  took  ladies 
by  the  elbow  to  assist  them  across  the  street; 
but  then  she  had  never  met  a  Jersey  City  gentle- 
man, and  no  doubt  it  was  the  custom  of  the  place, 
she  said  to  herself.  There  were  other  things,  too, 
that  were  unusual  about  their  new  friend,  and 
yet  she  could  not  have  said  exactly  what  they 
were.  His  clothes  were  not  shabby;  on  the 

contrary,  they  looked  very  new;  but  they  were 
5  63 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

rather  aggressive  in  style,  and  did  not  seem  to 
fit  well.  His  polite  manners  did  not  fit  well, 
either;  in  fact,  they  became  so  exaggerated  that 
Betty  began  to  wonder  if  he  really  were  a  gentle- 
man. Perhaps  he  was  a  butler  or  a  groom  or  a 
coachman  whom  General  Keith  had  sent.  She 
glanced  at  his  face.  He  had  a  rather  disagree- 
able expression,  in  spite  of  his  gallant  ways.  She 
had  never  seen  any  one  with  such  closely  cropped 
hair  and  such  enormous  ears.  She  wondered 
what  Chris  thought  of  him. 

The  boy  was  chatting  pleasantly.  As  usual, 
he  was  cordial  and  friendly.  It  required  some 
very  pointed  incivility  or  unkindness  to  make 
Christopher  suspect  ill-will.  Then,  too,  his  past 
life  had  thrown  him  with  all  sorts  and  conditions 
of  men.  He  would  not,  therefore,  be  so  apt  as 
Betty  to  decide  that  a  man  was  or  was  not  a 
gentleman. 

They  walked  until  Christopher  felt  rather  tired. 

"I  am  sorry,"  he  said,  looking  up  in  his  bright 
way  at  the  man,  "but  I  shall  have  to  ask  you  to 
go  a  little  more  slowly.  You  see,  I  am  lame,  and 
I'm  not  quite  used  yet  to  my  artificial  leg.  I 
suppose  you  didn't  know  I  had  one,  did  you? 
Most  people  don't  until  I  tell  them." 

"Well,  now,  I  never  guessed  it  at  all.  You 
manage  it  fine,"  replied  their  guide,  slackening 
his  speed  slightly,  but  still  walking  briskly. 

64 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

"Why  don't  we  take  a  carriage?"  asked  Betty. 
"Where  are  we  going,  anyway?  or  can't  we  go 
in  a  car  to  where  General  Keith  is  waiting?" 

"No,  my  little  lady,  we  can't,"  said  the  man, 
rather  less  civilly  than  he  had  yet  spoken.  "There 
is  no  car  that  goes  where  we're  going — at  least, 
we're  not  going  to  take  it." 

Betty  looked  at  him  again.  This  was  cer- 
tainly no  gentleman. 

She  had  been  very  stupid  to  think  for  an  in- 
stant that  he  was  one.  She  had  been  so  pleased 
that  General  Keith  had  at  last  sent  for  them,  and 
so  impressed  by  the  manners  of  his  emissary,  that 
she  had  not  been  as  discriminating  as  usual. 

"Which  ferry  do  we  take?"  she  asked  next. 

"You  wait  and  see." 

This  was  certainly  peculiar,  not  to  say  pro- 
voking. 

"I  am  accustomed,"  said  Betty,  very  loftily, 
"to  have  people  answer  my  questions." 

"Well,  my  little  lady,  it's  time  you  got  used 
to  something  different." 

They  walked  on  in  silence  for  some  time. 
Christopher  grew  rather  pale. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  said  he,  at  last,  "but  I 
think  we  will  have  to  take  a  car  or  a  carriage. 
My  leg  is  hurting,  and  my  grandfather  never 
allows  me  to  walk  when  it  is  hurting." 

The   man   muttered    something   beneath   his 

65 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

breath  which  to  Betty's  keen  ears  sounded  amaz- 
ingly like  a  "swear  word."  She  was  becoming 
very  much  puzzled.  If  General  Keith  had  sent 
this  person  to  bring  his  grandson  to  him,  he 
surely  would  have  given  directions  that  he 
should  ride,  at  least,  in  a  car.  Had  the  General 
really  sent  him?  For  the  first  time  a  well-de- 
fined suspicion  that  all  was  not  as  it  should  be 
entered  Betty's  mind,  and  having  once  gained 
entrance  it  stayed  there.  She  reviewed  the 
situation  and  the  details  of  this  man's  first  ap- 
pearance in  the  station.  He  had  known  Chris- 
topher's name,  and  he  had  certainly  spoken  of 
General  Keith  by  name  and  said  that  he  had 
sent  him.  He  had  mentioned,  too,  that  the 
General  had  been  detained  by  business.  Oh,  it 
must  be  all  right!  There  could  be  no  other  pos- 
sible way  for  him  to  have  arrived  at  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  affairs  of  General  Keith  and  Chris- 
topher. 

While  she  was  thinking  these  things  the  man 
had  hailed  a  passing  car.  Betty  had  just  time 
enough  to  see  the  word  "Hoboken"  upon  it 
when  they  all  entered  it  and  the  car  sped  on  its 
way.  Now  this  seemed  more  remarkable  than 
anything  yet.  It  could  not  be  possible  that 
General  Keith  should  be  awaiting  Christopher  in 
Hoboken.  People  only  went  to  Hoboken  to  sail 
for  Europe,  she  was  sure.  She  wished  that  she 

66 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW  YORK 

might  have  a  word  with  Chris,  but  the  man  was 
sitting  between  them;  in  fact,  the  man  had 
always  placed  himself  between  them  since  they 
started  on  their  walk.  She  had  not  had  the 
smallest  opportunity  to  speak  to  Chris.  It  sud- 
denly occurred  to  her  that  it  might  be  a  good 
plan  to  speak  in  French  if  the  chance  came. 
She  was  quite  sure  that  they  would  not  be  under- 
stood. The  person  who  had  them  in  charge 
did  not  look  like  one  who  was  conversant  with 
other  languages  than  his  own.  Betty  did  not 
feel  at  all  frightened.  Her  mind  was  so  alert 
and  her  spirit  so  intrepid  that  she  never  thought 
of  being  alarmed.  Her  one  idea  was  to  find  out 
what  the  man  was  planning  to  do,  and  to  escape 
from  his  clutches  as  soon  as  possible. 

She  looked  out  of  the  window,  and,  from  the 
numerous  German  names  and  signs  that  she  saw, 
concluded  that  they  were  in  Hoboken.  She  had 
been  over  there  many  times  with  Gertrude  to 
visit  her  nurse's  relatives,  who  were  respectable, 
well-to-do  people,  and  who  lived  very  comfortably 
in  German  fashion,  and  Betty  had  always  en- 
joyed going  to  see  them;  but  she  knew  perfectly 
well  that  it  was  not  at  all  probable  that  General 
Keith  should  have  business  in  Hoboken  and  send 
for  Christopher  to  meet  him  there. 

At  last  the  man  stopped  the  car,  and  they  all  got 

out.    Betty  stepped  quickly  to  Christopher's  side. 
67 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

"It  is  all  very  strange,"  she  said,  in  French. 
She  was  glad  enough  now  that  they  both  under- 
stood it.  Even  the  despised  language  ot  Marie 
had  its  uses  in  an  emergency.  "I  don't  think 
your  grandfather  sent  him.  General  Keith 
wouldn't  have  any  business  to  do  in  Hoboken, 
unless  he  were  going  to  sail  for  Europe.  Perhaps 
the  man  is  stealing  us.  What  had  we  better  do?" 

Her  French  was  by  no  means  perfect,  but 
Chris  fortunately  could  understand  it.  The  man 
did  not,  and  consequently  objected  to  its  being 
used. 

"See  here,"  said  he,  in  a  very  rude  way,  "you'd 
better  shut  up.  We  don't  want  any  of  that  lingo. 
Straight  American  's  good  enough  for  us." 

"I  think  I  shall  speak  French  if  I  want  to," 
said  Betty — "or  German  either,"  she  added,  not 
sorry  to  display  her  linguistic  powers.  "Quick!" 
she  said,  again  in  French.  "We  mustn't  let 
him  take  us  into  a  house.  If  we  once  got  shut 
up  in  a  house  we  might  never  get  out." 

This  suggestion  was  horrible. 

"If  we  could  only  see  somebody  we  knew!" 
suggested  Christopher. 

"Somebody  we  knew!  We  shall  never  meet 
any  one  we  know  in  Hoboken — unless  it  were 
Gertrude  or  some  of  her  family.  Oh,  how  I  do 
wish  we  might  meet  Gertrude!  Have  you  any 
money?" 

68 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

"Shut  up,  I  tell  you!"  exclaimed  the  man, 
angrily.  "There's  no  need  at  all  for  you  to  be 
holding  consultations." 

"I  don't  know  why  you  speak  to  us  in  that 
way,"  said  Christopher,  gravely.  "If  my  grand- 
father sent  you  for  me,  I  know  he  would  not 
mind  my  talking  to  Betty  in  French  if  I  want 
to.  Where  are  we  to  meet  my  grandfather?" 

"Where  he's  waiting,  and  no  place  else.  We'll 
get  to  the  house  soon." 

They  were  both  startled  by  this  announcement. 
It  was  to  a  house,  then,  that  he  intended  taking 
them!  Betty  determined  to  make  a  fight.  If 
he  took  her  into  a  house  he  would  have  to  carry 
her  screaming  and  kicking.  She  would  arouse 
the  neighborhood.  She  would  call  the  police. 
The  police!  That  was  an  idea.  Strange  that 
it  had  not  occurred  to  her  before.  She  looked 
eagerly  up  and  down  the  streets.  She  actually 
saw  a  policeman  standing  on  a  corner  a  block 
away;  but,  to  her  disappointment,  the  man 
turned  the  corner  that  they  were  then  on.  She 
remembered  that  he  had  turned  a  great  many 
abrupt  corners  in  the  course  of  their  walk.  Oh, 
what  should  they  do?  For  the  first  time  her 
courage  failed.  She  felt  miserably,  horribly 
frightened. 

But  almost  in  the  same  moment  that  terror 
came,  hope  revived.  She  was  suddenly  impressed 

69 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

with  the  fact  that  she  had  been  on  this  street 
before.  The  houses  looked  familiar,  and  she  had 
often  read  the  name  and  the  signs  on  that  beer- 
shop  across  the  way.  Was  it — could  it  be — yes, 
it  was  the  street  where  Gertrude's  relatives  lived ! 
They  must  pass  the  very  house. 

"Pretend  you  are  very  tired,"  she  said,  quickly, 
in  French.  "Stop,  and  say  you  can't  walk  an- 
other step.  I  know  what  to  do.  But  please, 
please  do  as  I  say.  Attract  his  attention  some- 
how. It  will  give  me  more  time." 

Christopher  obeyed  her  implicitly.  He  could 
not  imagine  why  she  made  this  request,  but  he 
had  perfect  confidence  in  Betty.  He  stopped 
abruptly.  "I  can't  walk  another  step,"  he  said. 
"  You  will  have  to  get  a  carriage  or  do  something. 
I  have  got  to  sit  down  on  these  steps." 

He  did  so,  and  the  man  turned  to  him  in  wrath 
and  impatience.  "Get  right  up  and — "  But  he 
did  not  finish  his  sentence.  To  the  utter  amaze- 
ment of  both,  Betty  ran  up  the  steps  of  a  house 
a  few  doors  farther  on  and  pulled  the  bell-handle 
again  and  again,  at  the  same  time  pounding  on 
the  door  and  shouting  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 

' '  Frau  Schmidt !  Frau  Schmidt ! "  she  shrieked. 
"It's  Betty  Hamilton!  Quick!  Open  the  door! 
Frau  Schmidt!  Chris,  shout,  too!  Make  all  the 
noise  you  can!  Police!  Fire!  Murder!  Thieves! 
Frau  Schmidt!  Police!" 

70 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

In  an  instant  the  door  of  the  beer-shop  across 
the  way  was  opened  and  that  of  the  little  butcher- 
shop  next  doer  to  it,  and  the  doors  of  some  of 
the  houses,  and  windows  were  thrown  up  all 
along  the  street  and  heads  were  thrust  out. 
What  was  the  matter?  Frau  Schmidt  came 
running  to  her  door,  followed  by  her  daughters. 

"Ach!  Himmel !"  she  cried.  "Es  ist  Fraulein 
Betti!  Gertrud!  Gertrud!  Hier  ist  das  kleine 
Fraulein.  Was  haben  sie?" 

And,  wonderful  to  relate,  Gertrude  herself 
emerged  from  the  front  door  to  find  her  precious 
charge,  whom  she  had  supposed  was  at  home  in 
Madison  Avenue,  shouting  aloud  in  the  streets 
of  Hoboken,  while  a  few  doors  away  a  boy  who 
must  be  Christopher  Lovel  sat  upon  the  door-step 
and  also  shouted  for  the  police  and  the  fire-engines; 
and  so  much  engaged  were  they  all  in  looking 
and  wondering  at  the  children,  and  in  asking 
them,  with  many  exclamations  of  "Ach!"  and 
"Himmel!"  why  they  were  behaving  in  this  ex- 
traordinary manner,  that  they  paid  no  attention 
to  the  man  who  was  walking  rapidly  up  the  street, 
and  who,  turning  the  nearest  corner,  was  soon 
lost  to  sight. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  amaze- 
ment of  Gertrude  or  the  relief  of  Betty  and  Chris- 
topher at  this  meeting.    It  was,  indeed,  most  re- 
markable that  they  should  have  been  led  to  the 
71 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

very  door  of  their  friends.  When  Gertrude 
heard  the  account  of  their  experiences  and  of 
their  wonderful  escape  from  the  clutches  of  their 
abductor,  she  knelt  down  among  them  all  and 
thanked  the  good  Lord  for  preserving  her  darling 
from  harm.  Then,  rising,  Gertrude  took  Betty  in 
her  arms  and  kissed  her,  the  tears  coming  into  her 
eyes,  and  her  strong  German  face  working  with 
emotion.  Betty  had  never  seen  her  so  moved 
since  one  night,  long  ago,  when  Pauline  was  ill, 
and  it  was  feared  she  might  not  recover.  At 
last  she  overcame  her  emotion,  and,  after  ques- 
tioning them  once  more,  she  remembered  that 
they  should  lose  no  time  in  communicating  with 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton,  who  must  by  this  time 
be  sadly  alarmed  by  Betty's  prolonged  absence. 
It  was  now  long  after  five  o'clock,  and  she  could 
well  imagine  how  uneasy  Mrs.  Hamilton  must 
be.  The  full  iniquity  of  Marie,  of  course,  she 
did  not  guess,  although  she  had  given  several 
exclamations  in  German,  which  Betty  knew  were 
scathing  in  significance,  when  she  was  told  that 
Marie  had  been  willing  to  leave  Betty  at  General 
Keith's  while  she  went  to  see  a  cousin. 

Gertrude  hurried  across  the  street  to  a  public 
telephone,  and  soon  the  glad  news  was  communi- 
cated to  Mrs.  Hamilton,  and  then  the  good  woman 
and  the  children  entered  a  carriage  which  had 

been  sent  for,  and  amid  the  farewells  of  a  throng 
72 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

of  people  they  started  for  home.  Betty,  her 
alarms  a  thing  of  the  past,  thoroughly  enjoyed 
her  unusual  position.  She  felt  herself  to  be  a 
very  great  personage  indeed  as  she  left  the  house 
of  Schmidt,  with  all  the  Schmidts  on  the  steps 
to  see  them  off,  and  Herr  Schmidt,  who  had  come 
home  and  heard  the  news,  to  close  the  carriage 
door,  and  all  the  neighbors  standing  on  the  side- 
walk, and  even  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  to  bid 
them  farewell.  At  first  the  excitement  of  all 
which  they  had  been  through,  and  the  novelty 
of  the  drive  from  Hoboken,  had  an  exhilarating 
effect  upon  both  Betty  and  Christopher;  but  very 
soon  that  wore  off,  and  the  two  tired  children 
fell  asleep,  each  with  a  head  on  Gertrude's  com- 
fortable shoulders  as  she  sat  between  them  on 
the  broad  seat  of  the  hack.  They  had  walked  a 
very  great  distance,  and  it  was  not  surprising  that 
they  were  exhausted. 

It  was  a  long  drive  from  Hoboken  to  the  Ham- 
iltons'  house  on  Madison  Avenue — first  to  the  ferry 
and  then  across,  and  then  with  many  delays  and 
slow  progress  up-town;  but  at  last  it  was  over, 
and  the  carriage  stopped  in  front  of  the  well- 
known  door.  And  then  the  door  was  thrown 
open,  and  down  the  steps  came  Mrs.  Hamilton 
herself,  and  Charles  and  William  to  help  them 
out,  with  Florence  and  Pauline  close  behind, 

and  all  the  maids  looking  on.    It  was  even  more 
73 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

thrilling  than  the  departure  from  the  home  of 
the  Schmidts,  and  very  much  more  delightful; 
for  it  was,  indeed,  good  to  get  home. 

"Oh,  mamma,  mamma!"  cried  Betty,  with 
her  arms  tight  around  her  mother's  neck,  after 
they  were  all  safe  in  the  house,  "I'm  afraid 
you've  been  terribly  frightened  about  me,  and  I 
know  it  was  all  my  fault.  I  oughtn't  to  have 
stopped  to  see  Chris.  But  I  was  only  going  to 
stay  a  minute,  and  then  Thomas  fell  down  dead, 
and  I  had  to  go  with  Chris  to  find  his  grandfather. 
I'm  so  sorry,  but  I  never  thought  about  any- 
thing but  helping  Chris.  I  forgot  it  would  take 
so  long  to  go  to  the  station." 

"  My  darling,  we  will  talk  it  all  over  to-morrow," 
said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  in  her  tender  way.  Chris- 
topher, watching  her  face,  thought  it  even  more 
beautiful  than  he  had  before. 

She  looked  up  quickly,  and  met  his  steady  gaze. 
His  eyes  were  very  solemn.  He  was  not  envious 
of  Betty,  but  he  felt  sorry  that  he  had  no  mother 
to  take  him  in  her  arms  like  that  when  he  came 
home.  By  some  instinct  Mrs.  Hamilton  read  his 
thought  as  clearly  as  though  he  had  spoken. 
She  held  out  her  hand  and  smiled  at  him.  Chris 
went  quickly  to  her  side. 

"Dear  boy,"  she  said,  putting  her  arm  about 
him  and  drawing  him  close  to  her,  "I  am  glad 

Betty  was  with  you,  as  you  are  both  safely  out 
74 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

of  it  now.  You  are  very  tired,  aren't  you? 
Would  you  like  to  have  me  ask  your  grandfather 
to  let  you  spend  the  night  here?  I  should  so  like 
to  have  you  for  my  boy,  just  this  once.  Will 
you  stay?" 

"Oh,  I  wish  I  could!"  he  answered,  eagerly; 
"but  I  am  afraid  my  grandfather  will  want  me 
at  home.  I  ought  to  be  there  now,  to  tell  him 
I'm  safe.  I  was  waiting  for  a  chance  to  ask  you 
please  to  let  me  go." 

"Your  grandfather  knows  you  are  safe,  and 
he  will  soon  be  here  himself.  He  and  Mr.  Ham- 
ilton have  been  looking  for  you,  and  sometime 
after  Gertrude  telephoned,  Mr.  Hamilton  called 
me  up,  to  tell  me  they  had  not  found  you  yet; 
and  then  we  could  give  them  the  wonderful 
news  that  you  were  safe,  and  were  coming — that 
you  were  on  the  way." 

And  while  she  spoke  the  front  door  was  heard 
to  open,  and  Mr.  Hamilton  and  the  General 
came  in. 

It  was  hard  for  Christopher  to  realize  that  this 
was  his  dignified  and  austere  grandfather.  His 
customary  coldness  and  apparent  severity  were 
laid  aside.  He  was  so  rejoiced  and  thankful  to 
receive  again  his  dearly  loved  grandson,  the  boy 
who  had  gained  a  place  in  his  affections  even  be- 
fore he  knew  him  to  be  his  daughter's  son,  and 

who   ever   since  then   had  daily  become  more 
75 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

and  more  precious  to  him,  that  he  forgot  to  scold 
or  even  to  question  him  as  to  his  mistake  in 
regard  to  the  stations.  This,  no  doubt,  would 
come  to-morrow;  to-night  there  was  only  joy 
and  thankfulness.  Instead  of  censuring  Betty  for 
having  been  the  means  (as  he  strongly  suspected) 
of  Christopher's  becoming  involved  in  such  an 
adventure,  he  complimented  her,  in  his  most 
courtly  gentleman-of-the-old-school  manner,  for 
her  acuteness  of  perception  and  her  presence  of 
mind,  first  in  detecting  that  the  man  was  an 
impostor,  and  then  in  speaking  French  in  order 
to  make  known  her  suspicions  to  Christopher, 
and  upon  her  "clever  device"  for  bringing  the 
Schmidts  to  their  aid. 

Betty  was  charmed,  and  decided  that,  after  all, 
General  Keith  was  a  very  pleasant  old  gentle- 
man. When  he  consented  to  the  request  that 
Christopher  should  spend  the  night  there,  she  was 
still  more  inclined  to  like  him.  It  was  plainly 
to  be  seen  that  he  would  prefer  to  take  him  home 
with  him,  but  realizing  the  boy's  fatigue  he  knew 
that  it  would  be  better  for  him  to  stay  where 
he  was.  Presently,  when  he  rose  to  go,  Betty 
went  to  him. 

"I  hope  you  will  excuse  me  for  influencing 
Chris  to  go  to  the  wrong  station,"  she  said.  "It 
was  not  his  fault  at  all." 

"Oh  yes,  it  was,  Betty,"  said  the  boy.     "I 

70 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

ought  to  have  known  better,  oughtn't  I,  grand- 
father?" 

"So  it  seems  to  me,"  said  General  Keith. 

"No,  it  was  really  my  fault,  and  I  am  truly 
sorry,"  persisted  Betty.  "Will  you  please  ex- 
cuse me?"  She  held  out  her  hand. 

The  General  took  it  in  his  own,  and  they  shook 
hands  very  impressively.  "I  assure  you,"  said 
he,  "that  your  mistake  was  most  natural." 

"I  like  you  better  than  I  ever  thought  I 
should,"  continued  Betty.  "I  am  really  not 
surprised  that  Chris  loves  you  so  much.  You 
see,  General  Keith,  you  are  so  very  icy  in  your 
way  of  speaking  that  it  kind  of  freezes  me  to 
think  of  loving  you,  but  Chris  always  has." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  General,  again  shak- 
ing hands  with  her.  "You  could  not  have 
told  me  anything  more  gratifying  for  me  to 
hear." 

"And  another  thing,"  added  Betty:  "I  think 
that,  excepting  my  father,  you  are  the  gentle- 
manliest  gentleman  I  ever  met.  I  should  like 
to  have  you  for  a  friend." 

"Betty!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hamilton.  And  all 
the  rest  of  her  family  also  exclaimed:  "Betty!" 

But  the  old  General  actually  smiled. 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Betty,"  said  he,  again. 
"The  desire  is  mutual." 

And,  strangely  enough,  the  compact  entered 

77 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW  YORK 

into  that   night  was  never   broken,  in  spite  of 
many  severe  strains  that  were  laid  upon  it. 

Many  efforts  were  made  to  find  the  man  who 
had  tried  to  steal  the  children,  and  for  a  long 
time  the  police  of  the  three  cities  kept  a  sharp 
watch  for  such  a  person  as  he  was  described  to 
be.  It  was  supposed  that  he  had  been  near  them 
in  the  station,  and  so  had  overheard  their  remarks 
and  the  mention  of  General  Keith's  name.  As 
the  General  was  known  to  be  very  wealthy,  it  had 
no  doubt  occurred  to  the  man  that  this  might 
be  an  easy  way  to  procure  money — by  holding 
the  children  for  a  ransom.  Be  this  as  it  may, 
the  man  had  escaped  pursuit,  and  had  probably 
gone  now  to  some  distant  place  where  he  was  in 
no  danger  of  detection. 


VI 


A  DAY  or  two  later  General  Keith  and  his 
grandson  left  New  York  for  Boston,  having 
waited  for  Thomas's  complete  recovery,  that  he 
might  be  with  them.  His  injury  was  not  severe 
in  itself,  although  it  had  made  him  unconscious 
for  a  time,  and  very  soon  he  was  about  again  and 
able  to  perform  his  usual  duties.  The  nights 
passed  in  Boston  at  one  of  the  large  hotels  were 
like  many  other  nights  at  other  large  hotels,  which 
had  been  part  of  Christopher's  experiences  since 
his  life  with  his  grandfather  began.  They  were 
all  the  same:  the  arrival,  the  obsequious  hotel 
clerks,  the  spacious  suite  of  apartments,  the 
music  while  they  dined,  the  well-dressed  people, 
the  hurrying  bell-boys — all  these,  which  had  at 
first  seemed  so  interesting  to  the  little  lame  boy, 
whose  former  life  had  been  full  of  the  anxieties 
of  poverty  and  ill-health,  had  now  become  an 
old  and  rather  dull  story. 

No  one  would  have  guessed,  however,  that  he 
considered  it  dull,  and  his  grandfather,  finding 
Christopher  the  most  desirable  companion  whom 

6  79 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW  YORK 

he  had  yet  encountered  in  the  course  of  his  long 
journey  through  life,  took  it  completely  for 
granted  that  he  himself  was  all  whom  Christopher 
needed.  He  frowned  upon  the  children  with 
whom  the  boy  chanced  to  become  acquainted  in 
their  travels,  and  never  encouraged  further  in- 
timacy. To  Christopher's  friendly  soul  this  was 
something  of  a  trial,  but  as  yet  his  own  nature 
had  not  ventured  to  assert  itself.  Neither  he 
nor  his  grandfather  knew  its  strength.  The  peo- 
ple with  whom  he  had  lived  had  not  all  been  kind. 
His  grandfather  loved  him,  and  for  this  he  was 
grateful.  He  never  forgot  that  his  changed  cir- 
cumstances were  entirely  due  to  this  stern  old 
man,  and  he  cheerfully  gave  up  the  friends  of 
his  own  age  whom  he  chanced  to  find,  and  de- 
voted himself  to  his  grandfather. 

They  stayed  two  nights  in  Boston  for  General 
Keith  to  attend  to  his  business  with  his  acquaint- 
ance, who  lived,  at  Chestnut  Hill,  and  then,  early 
on  the  second  morning,  they  drove  to  the  station 
to  take  the  train  for  Maybury.  The  journey 
from  Boston  was  by  a  more  direct  route  than 
that  from  New  York,  and  as  General  Keith  seat- 
ed himself  in  his  chair  in  the  parlor-car,  he  re- 
marked, with  satisfaction  to  Christopher,  that 
they  should  not  be  obliged  to  change. 

"That  is  one  reason,"  said  he,  "why  I  prefer 
to  come  to  Boston.  It  takes  an  extra  day,  but 

80 


MISS    BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

it  is  easier.  Are  you  comfortable,  my  boy? 
Have  you  something  to  read?  Nothing?  Well, 
the  newsboy  will  be  coming  through  soon,  and 
then  you  can  buy  yourself  some  of  the  magazines 
and  weeklies.  Get  anything  you  like.  Here  is 
some  money." 

The  General  gave  him  two  dollars,  and  then, 
wheeling  about  in  his  chair,  he  opened  his  news- 
paper, and  was  soon  absorbed  in  its  contents. 
Christopher  understood  that  he  was  not  to  be 
disturbed.  His  grandfather  did  not  like  to  be 
spoken  to  while  he  was  reading  the  financial 
news.  There  was  nothing  to  be  seen  of  him 
now  but  the  top  of  his  head  and  the  huge  paper, 
so  Chris  amused  himself  by  looking  out  of  the 
window  or  studying  his  fellow-passengers,  while 
he  awaited  the  coming  through  of  the  boy  who 
sold  books  and  papers. 

At  last  the  well-known  cry  was  heard:  "Boston 
and  New  York  papers!  All  the  latest  maga- 
zines !  Harper 's,  Century,  Scribner's,  Puck,  Judge, 
Life,  Harper's  Weekly,  Ladies'  Home  Journal  out 
to-day!  Papers?"  It  sounded  to  Christopher 
just  like  every  other  newsboy  he  had  listened  to 
in  every  other  train,  and  yet  there  was  something 
in  this  boy's  voice  that  he  associated  with  other 
things  than  newspapers  and  magazines.  He 
leaned  over  the  arm  of  his  chair  and  looked  at 
the  news-agent  as  he  came  down  the  aisle  of  the 

81 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

car.  He  wore  the  regulation  blue  uniform  with 
brass  buttons,  and  a  military  cap  with  a  visor. 
He  was  tall  and  big,  and  as  Chris  watched  him 
make  his  slow  progress  toward  him  he  felt  quite 
sure  that  he  had  seen  this  lad  somewhere  else, 
but  whether  it  was  as  a  newsboy  on  some  train 
or  in  some  quite  different  place  he  could  not 
determine.  He  seemed  to  be  doing  a  brisk  busi- 
ness, for  nearly  every  passenger  made  a  purchase, 
and  Chris  wondered  if  anything  would  be  left 
for  him. 

"Have  you  got  a  St.  Nicholas?"  he  asked,  when 
the  youth  in  uniform  at  last  reached  his  chair. 

"No,  but  I  can  get  you  one  at  the  next  stop. 
Puck,  Judge,  Life — all  the  comic  papers." 

Christopher  looked  up  at  him.  "I'll  take  one 
of  each,"  said  he,  "and  grandfather  gave  me  two 
dollars,  so  give  me  some  magazines  that  have  a 
lot  of  pictures,  please — two  dollars'  worth.  Why, 
I  know  who  you  are!  You're  George  Smith!" 

"That's  my  name,  sure,  and  I  know  who  you 
are,  too.  You're  little  Chris  Lovel!  I  saw  you 
the  minute  you  came  on  board,  but  I  wasn't 
going  to  let  on  until  you  spoke  first.  I  say, 
you're  no  end  of  a  swell  now,  ain't  you,  spendin' 
two  plunks  as  easy  as  nothin'?" 

"Oh  no,  I'm  not  a  swell,"  replied  Chris. 
"That's  my  grandfather's  two  dollars.  I'm  aw- 
fully glad  to  see  you,  George!  How's  Lucy?" 

82 


MISS    BETTY    OF    NEW   YORK 

"She's  all  right,  last  I  heard  of  her.  I'm  a 
railroad  man  now,  and  don't  get  no  time  to  go  to 
Maybury.  My  route  only  goes  half-way,  and  then 
I  take  a  train  back.  I've  got  to  go  on  through 
now,  but  I'll  come  back  when  I  get  your  St. 
Nicholas." 

He  passed  on,  and  Christopher  piled  up  his 
purchases  neatly,  and  thought,  with  satisfaction, 
of  this  very  unexpected  meeting  with  an  old 
friend.  He  glanced  at  his  grandfather;  but  see- 
ing that  he  was  still  absorbed  in  his  paper,  and 
had  apparently  heard  nothing  of  the  conversa- 
tion, he  did  not  speak  to  him.  Chris  felt  so  happy 
about  seeing  a  Maybury  friend  that  he  would 
have  been  glad  to  share  his  pleasure  with  his 
grandfather.  There  was  no  one  else  to  speak 
to  about  it,  for  Thomas  was  travelling  in  another 
car,  so  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait  until 
George  appeared  again,  which  Chris  hoped  might 
soon  be  the  case. 

George  Smith  was  a  boy  who  had  lived  at  May- 
bury  in  somewhat  peculiar  circumstances.  He 
was  several  years  older  than  Christopher,  and 
was  now  apparently  engaged  in  making  his 
fortune — or,  at  least,  in  earning  a  living.  Being  a 
"railroad  man"  sounded  so  very  grand  and  grown- 
up that  Chris  felt  distinctly  impressed.  George 
at  one  time  was  very  poor.  His  mother  had  died 
at  Maybury  the  preceding  summer,  and  his  sister 

83 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW   YORK 

Lucy  had  gone  to  live  with  an  aunt,  Miss  Lucetta 
Smith,  who  was  also  the  aunt  of  the  Rachel  Amy 
Martin,  whom  Chris  and  Betty  had  spoken  of. 
Christopher  thought  it  all  over  while  he  looked 
out  of  the  window.  He  wondered  if  the  Smiths 
and  Martins  still  lived  in  the  house  that  was 
divided  in  half  by  a  wire  netting,  and  he  smiled 
when  he  remembered  the  fright  he  had  had  in 
that  very  house  when  the  wire  screen  was  being 
put  up  by  the  man  who  had  been  so  unkind  to 
him  before  his  accident.  It  seemed  so  strange 
that  he  had  ever  been  afraid  of  Peter  Snell,  now 
that  he  was  so  safe  in  the  guardianship  of  his 
grandfather.  He  peeped  around  the  back  of 
his  grandfather's  chair,  and  saw  that  he  had 
finished  the  financial  page  and  was  reading  the 
news  of  the  day,  so  he  ventured  to  stretch  out 
his  hand  and  pat  the  old  man's  arm  on  the  side 
nearer  the  window,  where  nobody  would  see  him. 

"What  do  you  want,  boy?"  asked  General 
Keith,  not  looking  around. 

"Nothing,"  said  Chris.  "I  just  thought  I'd 
feel  you.  I'm  glad  I  live  with  you,  grand."  It 
was  a  pet  name  he  used  occasionally. 

"Humph!"  said  General  Keith,  "I'm  glad 
you  do." 

It  was  not  much,  but  to  both  of  them  the  words 
as  well  as  the  action  meant  a  great  deal.  They 
understood  each  other  perfectly. 

84 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

After  awhile  George  Smith  came  through  again. 
This  time  he  carried  a  St.  Nicholas.  "Here  you 
are,  Chris,"  said  he.  "I  say,  will  you  give  some- 
thing to  my  sister  Lucy?  Don't  let  on  to  any 
one  else.  I  can't  write.  I  hate  writin'  worse 
than  anything.  You  just  tell  her,  will  you,  that 
you  seen  me,  and  I'm  well,  and  gettin'  along 
O.  K.,  and  I  want  you  to  give  her  this."  He 
placed  an  envelope  in  Christopher's  hand.  "And 
you  just  keep  quiet  to  everybody.  It's  five 
dollars,"  he  whispered,  leaning  over  him.  "I've 
been  savin'  it  up  for  Lucy.  You  tell  her  to  go 
over  to  South  Maybury  and  get  anything  she 
likes  at  the  Boston  Store — a  dress,  or  a  hat,  or 
candy,  or  a  diamond  ring.  Lucy  always  said 
she  was  going  to  have  a  diamond  ring  when  she 
grew  up." 

"Can  you  get  one  for  five  dollars?"  asked 
Chris,  as  he  tucked  the  precious  envelope  into  his 
safest  pocket. 

"Oh,  I  guess  you  can  at  the  Boston  Store  in 
South  Maybury,"  said  George,  laughing.  "May- 
be not  the  kind  that  would  do  for  John  D.,  but 
good  enough  for  us.  You  tell  her  I'll  be  comin' 
to  see  her  and  Aunt  Lucetta  one  of  these  days 
before  summer's  over,  and  I'll — " 

"'Christopher,  who  is  this?" 

The  boys  both  started  as  the  cold,  high-bred 
tones  fell  on  their  ears.  They  had  forgotten  that 

85 


MISS    BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

they  were  on  a  train,  that  Chris  was  the  grand- 
son of  the  severe  old  General,  that  George  was 
but  a  newsboy,  and  that  business  was  business 
and  possible  purchasers  were  being  kept  wait- 
ing. "Oh,  grandfather,  I  thought  you  were 
reading!  I'm  glad  you're  not.  This  is  George 
Smith.  I  knew  him  very  well  when  I  lived  at 
Toppan  Farm,  didn't  I,  George?" 

"Humph!"  said  the  General,  but  not  in  the 
same  way  in  which  he  had  said  it  a  few  minutes 
before  when  Chris  patted  his  arm.  "How  do  you 
do?"  he  said,  with  a  barely  perceptible  nod. 

Smith,  who  had  rested  his  pile  of  books  on 
the  arm  of  Christopher's  chair  while  they  talked, 
picked  them  up,  settled  the  strap,  and  prepared 
to  pass  on.  "Puck,  Judge,  Life!  All  the  comic 
papers!  Ladies'  Home  Journal  out  to-day!"  he 
called  out,  in  a  high,  penetrating  voice,  as  he 
walked  down  the  aisle. 

"It  isn't  worth  while  for  you  to  greet  every- 
body from  Maybury  as  an  intimate  friend,  Chris- 
topher," said  General  Keith. 

"Well,  no,  I  suppose  not  intimate,"  said  Chris. 
"And  I  never  was  intimate  with  George,  but  he 
was  a  friend.  All  the  Smith  family  were  friends, 
but  George  went  away  after  his  mother  died,  so 
I  didn't  have  a  chance  to  get  very  intimate.  The 
first  time  I  ever  knew  George  at  all  he  picked 
me  up  when  I  had  fallen  down  in  the  road.  You 

86 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

know  it  used  to  be  very  hard  for  me  to  get  up, 
grand,  when  I  fell  down — I  mean  when  I  was 
using  crutches." 

"Humph!"  said  his  grandfather. 

"There!"  exclaimed  Chris,  regretfully,  "I 
never  asked  George  if  he  noticed  that  I  don't 
use  crutches  any  more." 

The  General  moved  impatiently  in  his  chair 
and  opened  another  newspaper.  "Read  your 
magazine,"  said  he,  "and  don't  talk  about  your 
crutches.  Why  should  you  remember  things  that 
made  you  unhappy?" 

Christopher  laughed.  "Oh,  the  crutches  didn't 
make  me  unhappy,  grand,"  he  said.  "I  don't 
believe  I  was  ever  so  happy  in  my  life  as  when  I 
began  to  use  them  at  the  Home,  and  Jess  and 
Agnes  and  everybody  watching  me  to  see  how  I 
got  along.  Crutches  are  pretty  good  things  when 
you've  only  got  one  leg.  But  of  course  it's  much 
better  not  to  have  to  use  them,  and  I  wish  George 
had  noticed." 

He  settled  back  in  his  chair  and  turned  over 
the  pages  of  his  magazines,  hoping  that  George 
would  return.  But  when  he  did,  the  news-agent 
passed  by  without  stopping;  in  fact,  he  did  not 
even  glance  at  Christopher,  which  was  disap- 
pointing. Chris  remembered  that  George  had 
always  been  very  quick  to  take  offence,  and  to 
keep  at  a  distance  if  he  thought  that  he  was  not 

87 


MISS    BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

welcome.  He  wished  that  he  could  make  George 
understand  that  his  grandfather  was  not  really  a 
cross  person,  that  it  was  only  a  severe  manner. 
The  next  time  the  news-agent  came  through  he 
would  certainly  stop  him  and  make  known  to 
him  that  a  cane  now  occupied  the  place  of  the 
crutches,  and  that  even  a  cane  would  not  long 
be  necessary.  But  just  at  the  moment  when  the 
cry  of  "Puck,  Judge,  Life"  again  fell  upon  the 
ears  of  the  passengers,  General  Keith  wheeled 
his  chair  around  toward  the  window  and  engaged 
his  grandson  in  conversation.  It  was  impossible 
for  Christopher  to  turn  away  from  him  to  hail 
George,  so  the  last  opportunity  passed  by,  for 
the  boy  did  not  go  through  the  car  again,  and  at 
the  next  stopping-place  Chris  saw  him  out  on  the 
platform  of  the  station,  evidently  awaiting  a 
train  that  would  carry  him  back  to  Boston.  He 
looked  up  at  Christopher's  face  in  the  window, 
however,  glanced  at  General  Keith  in  the  place 
in  front,  and,  seeing  that  the  old  gentleman  was 
absorbed  in  his  papers  again,  he  stepped  close  to 
the  car.  Chris  opened  his  window. 

"Don't  tell  anybody  but  Lucy,"  said  Smith. 
"Promise!" 

"I  promise,"  said  Chris.  "I'll  give  it  to  her 
as  soon  as  I  can.  George,  did  you  notice — " 
And  then  the  train  began  to  move.  "Good-bye!" 
shouted  Chris.  "It  was  George  Smith,"  he  said 

88 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

to  his  grandfather,  who  looked  around  at  this. 
"He  goes  back  to  Boston  now.  Isn't  it  splendid 
he  has  steady  work,  grandfather?  I  am  sure 
you  would  like  George  if  you  only  knew  him 
better." 

"It  is  a  privilege  I  can  get  along  without," 
replied  General  Keith. 

At  last  the  long  day  in  the  cars  drew  to  a 
close,  and  they  were  now  approaching  Maybury. 
"There's  the  lake!"  exclaimed  Chris.  "The  first 
time — "  Then  he  remembered,  and  was  silent. 
He  had  been  about  to  refer  to  his  first  visit  to 
Maybury,  to  his  first  sight  of  Maybury  Lake; 
but  he  bethought  himself  in  time  that  his  grand- 
father strongly  objected  to  being  reminded  of 
the  fact  that  it  was  not  he  who  had  found  Chris- 
topher and  brought  him  up  to  Maybury  from  the 
city  and  the  Home  where  he  had  lived.  It  was 
Mr.  Toppan,  of  Toppan  Farm — or  "Uncle  Dan," 
as  Chris  called  him. 

When  the  train  stopped  and  they  stepped 
upon  the  platform,  there  was  Mr.  Toppan  himself 
standing  among  the  group  of  men  who  were  al- 
ways at  the  station  at  this  hour. 

"Uncle  Dan!"  called  out  Christopher.  "Oh, 
I'm  so  glad  to  see  you!"  He  went  quickly  to 
him,  and  the  tall  farmer  stooped  over  and  took 
him  in  his  arms. 

"My  little  son  of  sunshine!"  said  Daniel  Top- 

89 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

pan.  "My  little  son  of  sunshine!  Where  are 
the  crutches,  boy?" 

"Gone!"  laughed  Chris.  "Don't  need  crutches 
any  more.  I've  got  two  legs  now  nearly  as  good 
as  anybody's  —  not  quite.  See  me!"  And  he 
marched  up  and  down  the  platform. 

All  the  other  men  came  forward  and  shook 
hands  with  him.  He  was  a  great  favorite  in 
Maybury,  and  even  their  awe  of  the  General  did 
not  deter  them  from  welcoming  and  congratulat- 
ing the  lame  boy.  General  Keith  had  passed 
them  all  with  a  curt  nod  except  Mr.  Toppan. 
He  had  paused  long  enough  to  shake  hands  with 
him  and  inquire  for  Mrs.  Toppan. 

"The  boy  will  come  to  see  you  soon,"  he  said 
as  he  entered  his  carriage,  which  was  drawn  up 
at  the  other  side  of  the  station.  "Come,  Chris- 
topher, the  horses  don't  like  the  train,"  he  added. 
And  in  a  moment  they  were  off,  the  spirited 
horses  prancing  and  dancing  along  the  dusty 
country  road. 

"The  old  General's  as  proud  as  ever,"  said  the 
postmaster,  as  he  shouldered  the  mail-bag  and 
started  for  the  store — "proud  as  ever;  but  he 
don't  seem  to  have  had  much  effect  that  way  on 
Chris." 

"As  nice  a  boy  as  ever  was,"  replied  Sam  Wil- 
son, the  village  humorist,  who  was  the  post- 
master's usual  companion.  "Bright,  too.  Do 

90 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

you  mind  the  time  Tim  Tarleton  tried  to  make 
him  tell  what  he  was  carryin'  in  his  basket  to 
the  Widder  Martin  ?  Poor  Tim !  Guess  he  wishes 
by  this  time  he  didn't  have  the  widder's  baskets 
to  kerry!" 

Mr.  Toppan  walked  slowly  homeward.  He  did 
not  usually  frequent  the  station  at  this  hour, 
but  the  longing  to  see  Chris  had  brought  him 
there.  All  the  village  had  known  that  General 
Keith  was  expected  to  arrive  that  night. 

"There  never  was  a  boy  like  him,"  said  Daniel 
Toppan,  aloud.  There  was  no  one  near  to  hear 
him,  now  that  he  had  turned  off  from  the  main 
street  of  the  village.  The  dust  left  by  the  wagon 
with  General  Keith's  trunks  still  lingered  in  the 
air,  for  the  road  led  beyond  the  Toppan  farm 
to  Keith  Hall — "never  was  nor  never  will  be. 
If  it  makes  me  ache  like  this  to  have  him  come 
back  and  not  belong  to  us,  how  will  it  make 
Marthy  feel?" 

Marthy  was  Mrs.  Toppan.  They  had  wished 
to  adopt  Christopher  until  it  was  discovered 
that  he  was  the  General's  grandson,  after  Daniel 
had  brought  him  to  Maybury  from  the  Home 
and  he  had  passed  the  summer  at  the  farm. 

Mrs.  Toppan  was  on  the  piazza  when  the  boy 
drove  past.  He  leaned  forward  and  waved  his 
cap.  Then  he  turned  to  his  grandfather.  "Please 
let  me  get  out.  Please,  please,  grand!  James, 

91 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

stop.  Grand,  you'll  let  James  stop  while  I 
speak  to  her?" 

The  carriage  came  to  a  halt  a  short  distance 
beyond  the  house,  and  Christopher  climbed  down. 
If  his  grandfather  objected,  he  did  not  say  so. 
Mrs.  Toppan  came  quickly  across  the  grass. 

"I'm  coming  to  see  you  to-morrow,"  said 
Chris,  after  he  had  kissed  her  again  and  again, 
and  while  her  arms  were  still  around  him,  "but 
when  I  saw  you  I  just  couldn't  wait.  And  I 
don't  use  crutches  any  more,  you  see.  Isn't 
that  splendid?  And  I'm  to  have  a  pony  of  my 
own.  And  I've  seen  Betty,  and  they're  coming 
to  Maybury  soon,  and — and — oh,  I'm  glad  to 
get  back!  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  auntie!" 

"Come,  Christopher!"  called  General  Keith. 

"There,  go,  child.  Don't  keep  him  waiting, 
but  come  when  you  can,"  whispered  Mrs.  Toppan. 

She  stood  looking  up  the  road  long  after  the 
carriage  had  passed  out  of  sight  and  the  wagon 
with  the  baggage  had  rumbled  by.  Then  she 
turned  and  went  back  to  her  rocking-chair  on 
the  piazza.  She  was  knitting  quietly  when  her 
husband  came  into  sight. 

"Did  you  see  him?"  asked  Mr.  Toppan,  speak- 
ing with  unaccustomed  eagerness.  "Did  he  see 
you?  Did  he  bow?" 

"Bow!  Dan'el  Toppan!  He  had  the  carriage 
stop,  and  he  got  out  and  ran  to  meet  me.  There's 

92 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

no  change  in  him  except  for  the  better.  All  the 
money  in  the  world  couldn't  spoil  him." 

"That's  true,"  said  Daniel,  sorting  the  mail 
he  had  brought.  "Nothing  for  you,  Marthy. 
Yes,  that's  very  true.  And  the  General?  What 
did  he  do?" 

"Oh,  he  bowed  very  politely,  same  as  he  al- 
ways does.  He  was  in  a  hurry,  though,  to  get 
home,  but  that  was  natural  enough.  Chris  says 
he'll  be  here  to-morrow.  Seems  as  if  I  just 
couldn't  wait.  I'll  go  tell  Anna  about  his  stop- 
ping the  carriage."  And  she  went  into  the  house 
to  share  her  joy  with  the  hired  girl. 


vn 


'EITH  HALL,  General  Keith's  home  at  May- 
bury,  was  justly  celebrated  for  its  beauty 
in  all  that  part  of  the  State.  The  grounds,  which 
were  many  acres  in  extent,  were  kept  at  the 
highest  point  of  cultivation.  Those  near  the 
house  consisted  of  lawns  and  gardens,  while  far- 
ther away  there  were  groves  of  stately  trees, 
woods,  fields,  and  orchards.  The  General  was 
especially  interested  in  the  growing  of  roses,  and 
it  had  been  a  keen  delight  to  him  to  recognize  in 
Christopher  an  inherited  love  of  flowers.  This, 
with  his  musical  taste  and  his  desire  to  ride, 
pleased  the  grandfather,  who  cared  for  just  those 
things.  He  unconsciously  assumed  that  they 
would  feel  alike  about  everything  else.  He  de- 
cided that  the  boy  resembled  him  precisely,  and 
he  systematically  treated  him  as  he  would  wish 
to  be  dealt  with  himself,  making  no  allowance 
for  the  difference  in  years,  nor  for  the  traits  which 
Christopher  had  inherited  from  others  who  were 
equally  near  him  in  blood. 
The  new  pony  which  had  been  promised  to 

94 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

Chris  was  already  in  the  stable,  and  within  half 
an  hour  of  his  arrival  he  was  in  the  saddle.  This 
was  not  the  first  time  he  had  been  on  horseback, 
for  he  had  taken  lessons  while  they  were  trav- 
elling abroad,  and  now  he  rode  up  and  down  the 
avenue  and  around  the  circle  where  the  road 
swept  up  to  the  house  with  the  ease  of  an  accus- 
tomed horseman.  The  General  stood  on  the 
steps  of  the  piazza  and  watched  him,  while  a 
group  of  stablemen  gathered  at  a  little  distance. 

"Sit  a  little  straighter,"  called  out  General 
Keith,  "and  keep  a  light  hand  on  the  bridle! 
Your  horse  has  a  good  mouth.  Don't  spoil  it." 

"Strikes  me  the  old  gentleman's  pretty  hard 
to  please,"  said  Hooker,  a  new  man  on  the  place. 

"Oh,  that's  only  the  General's  way,"  replied 
James,  the  coachman,  in  the  same  low  tone. 
"He's  that  proud  of  the  boy  he  can  scarcely  hold 
it,  but  he  wouldn't  let  on  he  was  for  nothin'. 
It  takes  a  mighty  good  bit  of  work  to  get  any 
praise  out  of  the  General,  but  he's  a  good  master, 
all  the  same.  He  just  worships  that  boy,  and 
no  wonder." 

"Makin'  up  for  lost  time,  maybe,"  said  Hooker, 
who,  like  every  one  else,  knew  the  story. 

"He's  the  best  horse  I  ever  knew!"  cried  Chris- 
topher, riding  up  to  the  steps. 

"How  many  have  you  known?" 

"Oh,  ever  so  many!    All  the  farm-horses  and 
i  95 


MISS    BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

old  Jerry  at  Toppan  Farm,  and  those  we  rode  in 
Europe,  and  the  carriage-horses  and  your  Angus. 
I  like  Peter  better  than  any  of  them.  I  don't 
like  his  name,  though.  Do  you  think  he'd  feel 
badly,  grand,  if  I  were  to  change  his  name? 
You  know  that  person  was  named  Peter." 

"I  know,"  said  the  General,  hastily.  "By  all 
means,  change  it.  Call  him  anything  you  like. 
Better  come  in  now." 

"  I'll  think  it  over,"  said  Chris,  as  he  dismounted 
and  stood  patting  the  little  bay's  smooth  neck 
and  stroking  his  velvet  nose.  "I'll  give  you  the 
nicest  name  I  can  think  of,  dearest,"  he  whispered, 
"and  then  you  won't  be  at  all  sorry  you  had  to 
change  it — only  proud." 

He  watched  Hooker  lead  the  horse  away,  and 
then  he  followed  his  grandfather  into  the  house. 
Presently  they  were  seated  at  the  dinner-table, 
the  General  at  the  head  and  Christopher  at  the 
foot,  with  a  man  behind  each  chair,  just  as  they 
did  in  New  York.  This  had  impressed  Chris- 
topher deeply  when  he  first  carne  to  live  with 
his  grandfather,  accustomed,  as  he  was,  to  the 
farm-house  table,  and  before  that  to  a  life  that 
was  yet  more  destitute  of  style  and  luxury;  but 
now  he  had  become  used  to  wealth  and  grandeur, 
and  he  took  it  all  as  a  matter  of  course.  There 
had  been  so  many  changes  in  the  circumstances 

of   his   short   life   that   anything   was   possible. 
96 


ILL  GIVE  YOU  THE  NICEST  NAME  I  CAN  THINK  OF,  DEAREST,  HE 
WHISPERED" 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

Thus  far  nothing  had  been  permanent.  He  some- 
times wondered  if  life  as  it  was  now  would  con- 
tinue long.  This  crossed  his  mind  as  he  ate  his 
fruit  at  the  end  of  dinner.  The  servants  had 
left  the  room. 

"If  I  have  to  go  from  here  I  think  I'll  be  a 
railroad  man,  too,"  he  said,  with  a  suddenness 
that  was  a  bit  startling  to  his  grandfather. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  General  Keith, 
putting  down  his  empty  coffee-cup.  "Go  from 
here?" 

"I  might  have  to,  grandfather.  I've  changed 
lots  of  times.  And  if  I  have  to  change  again  I 
think  I'll  be  a  railroad  man,  and  sell  books  and 
papers  on  trains.  I  might  go  into  partnership 
with  George  Smith,  and  perhaps  I'd  get  to  be  a 
conductor  after  awhile." 

"Do  you  realize  that  I  am  your  grandfather — 
that  you  are  my  grandson?" 

"Why,  yes,  grand,  of  course.  But,  you  see, 
I've  always  been  that,  and  yet  I  have  been  very, 
very  poor,  and  I  might  get  poor  again,  and  then 
I'd  be  older,  so  I  would  have  to  work,  and  that's 
what  I  mean." 

"Christopher" — the  old  man's  voice,  usually 
so  hard  and  cold,  was  tender — "Chris,  my  boy, 
don't  speak  so.  You  will  always  live  with  me 
now,  and  when  I  die,  if  you  have  been  a  good 
boy  and  have  always  done  as  I  said,  my  money 

97 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW   YORK 

will  be  yours — the  greater  part  of  it.  Your  work 
will  be  to  take  care  of  it  properly." 

Christopher  looked  around  the  room,  at  the 
silver  on  the  sideboard,  the  pictures  on  the  walls, 
the  glass  and  silver  on  the  table  at  which  they 
sat,  and  through  the  open  door  of  the  dining- 
room  into  the  music-room  beyond.  It  had  never 
occurred  to  him  before  that  some  day  all  this 
might  be  his.  He  was  very  ignorant,  in  spite  of 
his  experience  with  trouble. 

"You  are  very  kind,  grand,"  said  he,  at  last. 

"Kind?  Why,  you're  my  own  flesh  and  blood, 
boy." 

Christopher  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"What  are  you  thinking  of?"  demanded  the 
General. 

"  I  was  thinking —  Oh,  grandfather,  you  would 
rather  I  didn't  say  it!" 

"  I  insist  upon  your  telling  me." 

"  I  was  thinking  perhaps  mother  and  father 
wouldn't  have — have  been  so  sick — if — if  you 
had  only  found  me  sooner,  dear  grandfather.  It 
was  such  a  pity  .you  couldn't  find  us  when  we 
needed  you  so  much.  But,  grand,  I  don't  see 
why  you  feel  so  very  badly  about  it.  It  isn't  as 
if  you  hadn't  tried  to  find  us.  That  would  have 
been  awful." 

The  old  General  rose  from  his  seat  and  walked 
quickly  to  one  of  the  windows.  Chris  caught  a 

98 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

glimpse  of  his  face  as  he  did  so,  and  the  boy  left 
his  place  also,  and,  following  him,  he  thrust  his 
hand  into  that  of  his  grandfather. 

"Don't  look  so,  grand!"  he  said,  looking  up  at 
him.  "It  isn't  as  if  you  hadn't  tried." 

General  Keith  was  silent.  He  was  a  brave 
man  in  battle,  and  men  feared  him  in  the  ordinary 
transactions  of  daily  life,  but  he  lacked  the  moral 
courage  to  confess  to  this  little  boy,  who  loved 
and  trusted  him,  that  he  not  "tried"  in  time. 

The  next  morning  dawned  bright  and  warm. 
It  was  early  in  April — so  early  that  up  in  this 
New  England  hill  country  there  were  yet  but  few 
signs  of  green.  But  spring  was  coming.  There 
was  the  softer  air,  the  smell  of  earth,  the  in- 
tangible something  that  whispers  of  change  and 
sends  a  thrill  of  expectation,  half-glad,  half-sad, 
through  all  who  truly  live.  Chris  felt  it,  although 
he  could  not  have  described  the  feeling,  as  he 
rode  slowly  away  from  Keith  Hall  that  April 
morning  on  his  way  to  fulfil  his  promise  to  George 
Smith.  That  part  of  his  errand  he  was  obliged 
to  keep  a  secret  from  his  grandfather,  for  he  had 
promised  to  speak  of  George's  gift  to  no  one  but 
his  sister.  He  had  obtained  permission  to  go  to 
Toppan  Farm,  and  he  intended  to  continue  on 
from  there  to  the  village.  He  would  tell  his 
grandfather  afterward  where  he  had  been.  Ben 
accompanied  him,  the  groom  whose  especial 

90 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

business  was  to  be  this  very  duty  of  riding  with 
Chris  and  taking  entire  charge  of  his  horse.  He 
had  been  brought  from  New  York  by  James,  the 
coachman,  and  therefore  knew  nothing  of  the 
country  about  Maybury. 

There  was  a  great  deal  to  be  seen  as  well  as 
said  at  the  farm.  It  was  necessary  to  go  all  over 
the  house  and  barn,  speak  to  each  person  and  each 
horse,  look  at  the  cows,  visit  the  hen-house,  and 
even  call  upon  the  pigs — not  to  speak  of  the  long 
talk  with  Mrs.  Toppan  and  Anna,  and  with  Mr. 
Toppan  and  the  hired  men — closely  accompanied 
through  it  all  by  Dandy,  the  dog,  who  was  over- 
joyed at  seeing  Chris  once  more,  and  never  left 
him  for  an  instant.  An  hour  passed  very  quickly 
to  Christopher  but  not  to  Ben,  who  walked  the 
horses  up  and  down  the  road,  and  longed  for  a 
New  York  life  once  more.  At  last  Chris  remem- 
bered that  he  had  another  call  to  make,  and 
mounting  his  pony,  which  had  already  been  dis- 
played to  the  admiring  eyes  of  all  his  friends,  he 
rode  off  in  the  direction  of  the  village,  turning  in 
the  saddle  to  wave  his  riding-stick  in  farewell  as 
he  did  so. 

"Well,  well,  it's  just  too  wonderful!"  said  Mrs. 
Toppan,  as  she  stood  looking  after  him  as  he  rode 
away.  "When  I  think  of  that  poor,  thin  little 
fellow  on  crutches  who  came  here  last  summer, 

without  a  friend  or  a  penny  to  his  name,  and  now 
100 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

to  see  that  fine  young  gentleman  riding  his  own 
horse  and  his  own  servant  riding  behind,  and  all 
in  this  short  time — why,  Dan'el  it's — it's  won- 
derful!" 

Mr.  Toppan  did  not  speak  for  a  moment.  Then, 
as  he  turned  to  go  back  to  his  work,  he  said, 
quietly:  "It  certainly  is,  Marthy.  And  it  makes 
me  kind  of  tremble  when  I  think  how  near  I  was 
to  keeping  him  out  of  it." 

"No,  you  wasn't,  Dan'el.  I  know  you  better 
than  you  know  yourself,  I  guess.  It  was  just  a 
temptation  sent  to  try  you.  We  think  often- 
times we're  near  yielding,  but  those  who  love 
us  know  we're  strong  enough  to  stand  it." 

Daniel  Toppan  turned  again  and  came  back 
to  her.  He  put  his  arm  through  hers,  and  they 
walked  together  to  the  kitchen  door.  "I  guess," 
said  he,  "it's  that  very  faith  in  us  that  those 
who  love  us  have  that  keeps  us  from  doing  wrong 
things  mighty  often.  It  ain't  so  much  our 
strength  as  it  is  theirs." 

"Well,  I'm  no  hand  at  reasoning  a  thing  out," 
replied  Mrs.  Toppan,  "but  I  maintain  there's 
strength  somewhere  where  there's  love,  for  that's 
the  strongest  thing  in  the  world." 

"You're  right  there,  Marthy."  And  then  he 
went  out  to  his  plough,  which  he  had  left  in  a 
distant  field  when  he  came  in  to  see  Christopher, 

and  Mrs.  Toppan  returned  to  her  housework. 
101 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

Chris  rode  to  the  village,  and  after  stopping  in 
front  of  the  store  to  greet  the  postmaster  and 
other  friends,  he  crossed  the  road,  and,  dismount- 
ing, entered  the  side  gate  of  the  house  where  Lucy 
Smith  lived  with  her  aunt  Lucetta.  There  was 
a  curious  history  attached  to  this  house.  Miss 
Lucetta  Smith  had  lived  in  it  all  her  life,  as 
had  also  her  sister,  Mrs.  Martin.  The  preceding 
summer  Miss  Smith  had  brought  home  the  chil- 
dren of  a  brother,  and  Mrs.  Martin,  objecting  to 
this,  had  caused  to  be  built  a  partition  of  wire 
netting,  dividing  the  house  exactly  in  half  from 
the  cellar  to  the  roof.  On  one  side  of  this  she 
lived  with  her  daughter  Rachel  Amy,  and  kept 
a  sharp  and  constant  watch  upon  the  doings  of 
her  relatives  in  the  other  half  of  the  house,  al- 
though she  never  spoke  to  them. 

Chris  found  Lucy  alone.  Miss  Lucetta  had 
gone  to  South  Maybury  to  do  some  shopping,  and 
had  left  her  niece  to  look  after  things  at  home. 
As  it  was  Saturday,  she  was  not  at  school.  It  was, 
therefore,  an  excellent  opportunity  to  give  Lucy 
the  envelope  containing  George's  five-dollar  bill, 
which  he  did  with  many  injunctions  of  secrecy. 

"Can't  I  even  tell  Aunt  Lucetta?"  asked  Lucy. 
"I  do  wish  I  could,  for  she  would  be  so  glad  about 
it.  She  worries  so  about  George,  and  wonders 
how  he  is  really  getting  along." 

"He  said  not  to  say  a  word,"  replied  Chris- 
102 


MISS    BETTY    OF    NEW  YORK 

topher,  very  earnestly.  "You're  to  get  a  hat 
or  a  dress  over  at  the  Boston  Store  in  South 
Maybury,  or  a  diamond  ring  —  anything  you 
want." 

They  had  stepped  out  into  the  half  hall  while 
he  was  speaking.  Lucy  was  quite  certain  that 
her  aunt,  Mrs.  Martin,  was  standing  on  her  side 
of  the  netting  in  the  hall  above,  so  she  made  no 
further  remark  beyond  warmly  expressing  her 
thanks  to  Chris. 

"I  am  very  much  obliged,"  she  said,  very 
earnestly.  She  was  an  old-fashioned  little  girl 
of  ten  or  eleven.  "You  are  very  good.  I  won't 
get  a  diamond  ring,  though,  because  there  are 
other  things  I  need  a  great  deal  more." 

"I  don't  believe  you  could  get  a  diamond  ring 
for  five  dollars,"  laughed  Chris.  "But  there  are 
lots  of  things  you  can  get,  and  you  will  tell  me 
what  you  choose,  won't  you,  because  I  shall 
want  to  know?" 

"Yes,"  said  Lucy,  "I  certainly  will;  and  I'm 
very,  very  much  obliged/' 

"I'm  going  in  to  see  Rachel  Amy  now,"  said 
Chris. 

"Well,  you  must  go  out  our  side  door,  and  go 
around  to  the  front  and  ring  their  bell." 

"All  right.    Good-bye,  Lucy." 

And  presently  he  was  ringing  the  bell  of  the 
door  on  the  other  side  of  which  he  had  been  stand- 

103 


MISS    BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

ing  but  a  few  seconds  earlier.  It  was  opened 
almost  before  his  hand  had  left  the  bell  by  Rachel 
Amy  Martin.  She  was  a  tall  girl  with  thick 
brown  hair,  which  she  wore  in  a  very  smooth 
braid,  and  her  face  was  attractive  without  being 
pretty.  It  was  alight  now  with  pleasure  as  she 
greeted  Christopher. 

"I  knew  it  was  you/'  she  said.  "Mother 
heard  you  when  you  were  in  at  Aunt  Lucetta's. 
So  you  went  to  see  Lucy  first  ?  However,  I  don't 
care  as  much  as  mother  does.  Be  careful  what 
you  say  in  there,  Chris.  We  hear  every  word — 
at  least,  mother  does."  She  led  him  into  the 
parlor,  which  with  the  front  door  had  fallen  to  the 
share  of  Mrs.  Martin  in  the  division  of  the  house. 
She  spoke  hurriedly  and  in  a  low  voice,  glancing 
as  she  did  so  at  the  door  into  the  hall. 

"You've  got  a  horse,  haven't  you?"  she  con- 
tinued. "What's  his  name?" 

"He  hasn't  any  name — at  least,  I  don't  like 
the  one  he  has,  and  I'm  going  to  change  it.  Do 
you  know  a  good  one?" 

"Oh,  why  don't  you  call  him  Julius  Caesar, 
or  Ivanhoe,  or  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion,  or —  Oh,  I 
know:  call  him  either  Napoleon  or  the  Duke 
of  Wellington,  I  don't  care  which,"  said  Rachel 
Amy,  who  was  fond  of  history  and  also  of  Scott, 
and  who  seemed  to  be  of  an  impartial  turn  of 
mind. 

104 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

Christopher  was  doubtful  about  all  of  these, 
and  there  was  a  lurking  desire  in  his  mind  to  sub- 
mit the  decision  to  Betty  Hamilton  when  she 
came.  He  felt  that  Betty  might  be  more  original 
than  Rachel  Amy. 

"I  don't  care  much  for  Napoleon,"  he  said, 
"and  Duke  of  Wellington  would  be  such  a  very 
long  name  for  such  a  little  horse,  and  so  would 
most  of  the  others.  I  think  I'll  wait  a  little  before 
I  decide,  but  if  you  think  of  any  more,  Rachel 
Amy,  I  wish  you  would  tell  me." 

"Brownie  is  a  nice  name." 

"That  is  the  name  of  Betty  Hamilton's  dog, 
only  they  call  him  Brown  usually.  Did  you 
know  they  were  coming  here  to  spend  the  whole 
summer  in  their  own  house?" 

"I  guess  everybody  knows  that."  Rachel 
Amy  spoke  without  enthusiasm,  and  her  manner 
might  almost  be  called  "snubby."  "Is  her  hair 
as  red  as  ever?" 

This  was  an  old  point  of  difference.  "I  don't 
call  it  so  very  red,  but  I  don't  think  it  has  changed 
any.  Don't  you  want  to  come  out  and  see  my 
pony?  I'm  afraid  I've  got  to  go  home  now." 

"You  haven't  stayed  so  very  long.  You  went 
to  see  the  people  next  door  first,  didn't  you?" 
Her  mother  always  insisted  that  Miss  Lucetta  and 
Lucy  should  be  mentioned  only  as  "the  people 
next  door." 

105 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

"Next  door?"  repeated  Chris,  somewhat  puz- 
zled. 

"Yes.    You  know.    In  there." 

"But  it's  the  same  house." 

Before  Rachel  Amy  could  reply,  Mrs.  Martin 
came  into  the  room.  "It  is  next  door,"  she  said, 
with  great  asperity,  "and  I'll  thank  you  not  to 
forget  it." 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Martin?"  said  Chris. 
He  held  out  his  hand  and  smiled  at  her.  Mrs. 
Martin's  face  relaxed  in  spite  of  herself.  She 
was  a  gloomy,  disagreeable-looking  person,  and 
she  rarely  smiled.  Long  practice  in  saying  and 
thinking  unpleasant  things  had  dragged  down  the 
corners  of  her  mouth  and  ploughed  deep  lines 
between  her  eyes.  She  was  a  person  who  went 
through  hie  with  the  firm  conviction  that  she 
was  very  much  to  be  pitied. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "ain't  you  lucky!  I  guess 
you  was  born  with  a  silver  spoon  in  your  mouth 
if  ever  anybody  was.  Got  a  horse  of  your  own, 
like  a  little  prince.  And  able  to  do  charity  and 
give  presents,  too.  But  I'll  thank  you  not  to  be 
visitin'  both  houses.  If  you're  bringin'  presents 
there,  you'll  kindly  not  come  here." 

"Mother!"  exclaimed  Rachel  Amy,  her  color 
deepening. 

"Both  houses?"  repeated  Chris,  somewhat  puz- 
zled. "Oh,  you  mean  your  sister's  half." 

106 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

"I  mean  that  Miss  Lucetta  Smith's.  She 
ain't  my  sister  any  longer,  I'd  have  you  to  un- 
derstand." 

Christopher  stood  looking  at  her.  "How  very 
strange  it  is,"  he  said,  at  last.  "I  would  give 
anything  in  the  world  to  have  a  sister  or  a  brother 
all  my  own.  I  think  I  would  rather  have  a  sister, 
because  girls  are  nice,  and  I'd  like  to  take  care  of 
her  always  and  love  her.  I  would  a  great  deal 
rather  have  one  than  a  horse  or  any  of  the  things 
grandfather  gives  me.  We  would  always  play 
together,  and  when  we  grew  up  I'd  have  her 
then,  too,  for  my  own.  And  you  have  one  right 
here  in  the  same  house  and  you  don't  want  her. 
It  seems  very  strange.  Do  you  suppose  it  is  al- 
ways that  way,  Mrs.  Martin?" 

"What  way?"  She  spoke  almost  against  her 
will.  She  would  have  liked  to  believe  that  the 
boy  was  preaching  to  her.  Then  she  could  have 
resented  it.  But  it  was  impossible  to  think 
this.  She  could  see  that  he  was  merely  thinking 
over  the  situation,  and  it  surprised  him. 

"Why,  that  what  we  have  we  don't  want, 
and  we  want  what  we  don't  have." 

"I  can't  answer  for  others,  but  I  know  it's 
always  been  pretty  much  that  way  with  me." 

"I  can't  understand  it,"  said  Chris.  "Not 
when  it's  a  sister.  I  should  think  you'd  be  so 
glad  of  her  you  wouldn't  mind  at  all  about  George 

107 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

and  Lucy.  I  should  love  to  have  George  and 
Lucy,  too.  It  must  be  splendid  to  have  rela- 
tions. But  I  have  my  grandfather.  Once,  you 
know,  I  didn't  have  him.  But  oh,  Mrs.  Martin,  a 
sister  is  such  a  nice  person  to  have  belonging  to 
you!  It  does  seem  such  a  waste  not  to  be  friends 
with  her.  Don't  you  think  you  really  could?" 

"No!"  cried  Mrs.  Martin,  with  vehemence. 

Chris  moved  toward  the  door.  "It  is  very 
strange,"  said  he  again.  "It  isn't  as  if  it  were  a 
thing  you  could  buy." 

Rachel  Amy  followed  him  out  of  the  front  door. 
"Don't  mind  her,"  she  whispered.  "I  don't 
think  she's  feeling  very  well.  Oh,  Chris,  what  a 
beautiful  horse!  And  is  he  really  all  your  own? 
And  don't  you  have  to  use  crutches  any  more? 
Oh,  I'm  so  glad!" 

"I  was  waiting  for  you  to  notice  about  the 
crutches,"  said  he,  much  gratified. 

"It's  perfectly  splendid,"  said  Rachel  Amy. 
"Doesn't  it  seem  very  queer  to  be  living  with 
General  Keith,  Chris?  Aren't  you  afraid  of  him?" 

Christopher  laughed.  "Afraid  of  grandfather? 
Why,  of  course  not!" 

"Well,  most  folks  are." 

"I  never  was,  even  before  I  knew  he  was  my 
grandfather." 

Christopher  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away, 
and  Rachel  Amy  stood  watching  him  just  as  the 

108 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

Toppans  had  done,  and  as  the  men  over  at  the 
store  were  also  doing.  It  seemed  so  wonderful 
to  them  all.  In  the  course  of  time  they  became 
accustomed  in  Maybury  to  the  sight  of  Chris- 
topher on  horseback,  but  at  first  it  was  the  chief 
subject  of  interest  and  conversation. 

When  Rachel  Amy  went  into  the  house  her 
mother  came  out  of  the  parlor.  She,  too,  had 
been  watching  through  the  crack  of  the  shade, 
which  she  had  drawn  slightly  aside.  The  shades 
were  seldom  raised  in  the  parlor  for  fear  the  sun 
would  spoil  the  carpet. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "did  he  give  you  a  present, 
too?" 

"Oh  no,  mother!" 

"Well,  I  never!  And  you  were  always  more 
his  friend  than  that  little  minx  in  next  door. 
Now,  what  has  she  done,  I'd  like  to  know,  that 
would  cause  him  to  bring  her  a  present  of  five 
dollars,  and  tell  her  to  go  buy  something  over  to 
the  Boston  Store?  Charity,  I  suppose.  That's 
all.  But  if  I  was  Miss  Lucetta  Smith  I'd  be 
above  lettin'  my  niece  and  adopted  daughter 
receive  charity.  To  think  of  all  the  money  Miss 
Lucetta  Smith  has  got  laid  away  as  ought  to 
have  been  yours,  Rachel  Amy,  as  much  her  niece 
as  any  one,  not  to  say  more,  having  lived  to- 
gether all  your  life  and  seemin'  to  set  such  store 
by  you!  And  all  I  did  for  her,  too!" 

109 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

Rachel  Amy  gathered  her  courage  in  both 
hands,  as  it  were.  "Aunt  Lucetta  is  just  as 
fond  of  me  as  she  ever  was,  mother,  and  you 
know  it,  and  she  loves  you,  too,  as  much  as  ever. 
It's  you,  mother!  It's  you  keeps  up  the  quarrel. 
Oh,  mother,  won't  you  take  the  netting  down 
and  be  friends  again?  Oh,  mother,  mother, 
please  take  the  netting  down!" 

Mrs.  Martin  grasped  her  daughter's  arms  and 
shook  her  slightly.  "Never!"  she  said.  "Never! 
And  don't  you  ever  speak  of  it  again.  There, 
I've  got  that  pain  again.  You've  got  to  keep 
quiet,  Rachel  Amy,  and  not  excite  me.  I  can't 
stand  it." 

"What's  the  matter,  mother?  I  didn't  know 
you  had  any  pain." 

"Oh,  it's  nothing.  It's  gone  now.  But  don't 
you  mention  any  such  subject  as  that.  It  brings 
it  right  on.  Do  you  hear?" 

"Yes,  mother,"  said  the  girl.  . 

She  wondered  if  her  mother  were  really  ill. 
Certainly  her  face  looked  white  and  drawn;  but 
always  she  had  made  much  of  her  ailments,  and 
experience  had  taught  Rachel  Amy  that  it  was 
never  worth  while  to  be  unduly  alarmed.  She 
went  back  to  her  work  with  a  heavy  heart.  Life 
had  become  very  sad  for  Rachel  Amy,  for  she 
loved  her  aunt  Lucetta. 


vm 

ON  the  first  day  of  June  the  Hamilton  family 
arrived  at  Maybury  Centre  and  established 
themselves  in  the  old  farm-house  which  Mr. 
Hamilton  had  bought,  and  which  had  been  put 
into  complete  order  for  his  use.  It  was  half- 
past  five  in  the  afternoon  when  the  train  drew  up 
at  the  little  station.  The  usual  crowd  of  loungers 
was  awaiting  it,  and  when  the  large  party  from 
New  York  alighted,  they,  the  village  worthies, 
felt  that  they  had  not  waited  in  vain.  This 
evening  there  was  really  something  to  see.  There 
were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton,  Florence,  Charles, 
Pauline,  Betty,  Betty's  dog,  and  several  persons 
in  addition  who  were  designated  as  "the  hired 
help."  The  coming  of  the  Hamiltons  had  long 
been  anticipated  by  Maybury,  and  the  realiza- 
tion of  these  anticipations  was  all  that  could  be 
desired.  There  was  certainly  something  to  look  at. 
The  purchase  of  the  old  Pringle  place  by  a 
New  York  man  had  been  one  of  the  sensations 
of  the  year.  The  residents  of  the  village  felt 
that  anything  was  now  possible  in  its  future. 

8  111 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

The  value  of  property  would  go  up  with  leaps 
and  bounds.  This  was  but  the  beginning  of 
good  things.  Until  recently  Maybury  had  re- 
mained undiscovered  by  city  people.  General 
Keith  had  owned  his  large  and  beautiful  estate 
there  for  many  years,  to  be  sure,  but  the  summer 
boarder,  that  advance-guard  of  city  fashion,  had 
not  as  yet  descended  upon  the  place.  With  the 
exception  of  the  Hamiltons  themselves,  scarcely 
any  one  of  their  kind  had  visited  Maybury,  and 
therefore  it  still  retained  the  quaintness  and 
charm  which  has  now  vanished  from  most  coun- 
try villages. 

All  the  "teams"  available  were  soon  at  the 
service  of  the  strangers,  and  presently  a  procession 
of  carry-alls  and  buggies  drove  along  the  main 
street,  and,  passing  the  post-office,  the  hotel,  and 
the  drug  store,  turned  off  upon  the  road  which 
led  past  the  Toppan  Farm  to  Keith  Hall.  Very 
soon,  however,  they  took  another  turn  to  the 
left,  and,  skirting  the  edge  of  Maybury  Lake,  they 
drove  through  the  woods  and  then  emerged  upon 
an  open  road,  on  either  side  of  which  the  fields 
and  apple  orchards  gave  evidence  of  the  close 
proximity  of  a  farm.  At  last  they  turned  in  at 
a  gate,  and  following  an  entrance  road,  grass- 
grown  and  rutty,  they  finally  drew  up  at  the  side 
of  a  long,  rambling  house,  which,  with  ells  and 

out-houses  and  barn  closely  adjoining,  seemed  to 
112 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

be  of  considerable  size.  It  consisted  of  but  two 
stories,  but  it  was  so  long  that  it  covered  a  large 
amount  of  space.  It  had  been  in  great  need  of 
repair  when  Mr.  Hamilton  bought  it,  but  now,  with 
fresh  paint  outside  and  with  all  the  comforts  that 
modern  life  can  give  within  doors,  it  had  become 
a  charming  summer  home.  Nothing  had  been 
done  to  alter  the  appearance  of  age.  The  paint 
was  white,  both  outside  and  in.  The  old  doors, 
with  their  quaint  glass  handles  or  still  more 
ancient  latches,  the  high  chimney-shelves  above 
the  great  fireplaces,  the  wainscoting,  the  little 
cupboards  that  one  came  upon  in  all  sorts  of  un- 
expected places,  the  steep  stairs,  and  even  the 
faint,  intangible  smell  that  clings  to  an  old  farm- 
house— all  were  there,  as  well  as  some  of  the  an- 
cient furniture  which  had  been  bought  with  the 
house,  and  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  con- 
sidered the  most  important  part  of  the  purchase. 
The  approach  to  the  farm  was  up  a  gentle  but 
long  incline,  consequently  the  house  lay  a  number 
of  feet  higher  than  the  village,  and  the  view  from 
the  piazzas  as  well  as  from  the  upper  windows 
was  very  fine.  The  lake,  which  was  quite  a  largo 
body  of  water,  irregular  in  shape  and  long  rather 
than  broad,  was  near  at  hand,  a  steep  path  leading 
directly  down  to  its  shores.  Beyond  the  gleam- 
ing water  was  the  railroad,  and  beyond  that  were 
woods  and  valleys  and  hills. 

113 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

Pauline  lingered  alone  on  the  west  porch.  The 
others  had  all  hurried  into  the  house,  eager  to 
explore  its  undiscovered  resources ;  but  she,  with 
the  instinct  of  the  artist,  stayed  to  watch  the 
changing  colors  of  lake  and  sky,  unheeding  the 
arrival  of  trunks  or  the  tramping  of  feet,  the 
shouts  of  the  delighted  family  and  the  excited 
barking  of  Brown,  who  felt  that  his  travels  now 
were  over.  She  had  her  travelling  -  bag  in  her 
hand,  and  presently  she  sat  down  on  the  steps, 
and,  opening  it,  searched  in  its  depths  until  she 
found  a  little  blank-book.  In  this  she  wrote  a 
description  of  the  view  as  her  eyes  saw  it.  She 
did  not  attempt  to  put  it  into  rhyme  or  verse. 
That  would  come  later.  It  was  necessary  to 
her,  however,  to  express  her  joy  in  what  she  saw 
in  written  language. 

She  was  interrupted  by  Charles. 

"I  say,"  said  he,  "isn't  this  corking?  Paul, 
you'd  better  stop  scribbling  and  go  up-stairs. 
If  you  don't,  Betty  will  have  grabbed  the  whole 
place  there." 

Pauline  felt  that  it  really  did  not  much  matter 
what  Betty  did  if  only  she  herself  could  look  at 
the  view;  this  was  her  first  thought.  But  pres- 
ently the  practical  side  of  her  nature  asserted 
itself,  and  she  went  up  to  investigate  for  herself. 
The  room  which  she  and  Betty  were  to  share  was 
on  the  corner  of  the  house  directly  above  where 

114 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

she  had  been  sitting  on  the  porch.  The  windows, 
therefore,  commanded  the  same  view  as  that 
which  she  had  been  watching.  It  was  a  large 
room,  with  a  high  white  wainscoting  and  an  old- 
fashioned  blue-and-white  paper.  The  two  beds 
were  on  opposite  sides  of  the  room,  and  were  small 
and  painted  white.  There  was  a  large  fireplace, 
and  on  either  side  of  the  chimney  was  a  cupboard. 
The  chairs  were  old-fashioned  and  stiff,  with  high 
backs,  and  there  was  a  chest  of  drawers  for  each 
girl  with  a  small  glass  above  it.  There  was  a 
straw  matting  on  the  floor,  and  upon  it  were 
oblong  rugs  made  of  woven  rags.  Florence's 
room  was  next  to  theirs,  on  the  side  of  the  house, 
and  was  not  unlike  it  in  general  appearance,  al- 
though somewhat  smaller.  On  the  opposite  side 
of  the  little  hall  was  Mrs.  Hamilton's  room,  and 
next  to  hers  the  guest-chamber.  The  boys'  room 
was  in  the  ell,  as  was  also  an  extra  room  for  their 
friends.  The  servants  had  another  ell  to  them- 
selves, over  the  kitchen,  and  a  room  that  was  now 
to  be  used  as  a  laundry. 

"You  take  the  right  side  of  everything  and  I'll 
take  the  left,"  said  Betty,  briskly,  when  Pauline 
came  in,  "just  as  we  always  do."  She  was 
hurrying  about  in  a  very  business-like  way,  un- 
packing and  arranging  her  possessions.  "Aren't 
those  window-seats  splendid?  There's  only  one 
table.  Who  will  have  it?" 

115 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

"You  can  have  the  table  if  you  will  let  me  have 
this  western  window  with  the  view  for  my  ownty- 
own,"  replied  Pauline. 

"Can't  I  ever  look  out  of  it?" 

"Oh  yes,  of  course  you  can  look  out  of  it,  but 
I  want  to  own  it  and  sit  here  when  I  like,"  said 
Pauline,  gazing  across  the  lake  as  she  spoke. 

"All  right.  I'd  rather  have  the  table  than  the 
view.  I  suppose  you'll  keep  your  ink  and  things 
on  your  window-sill." 

This  was  a  new  thought  to  Pauline.  In  her 
anxiety  to  secure  the  view  she  had  forgotten 
more  practical  advantages. 

"Perhaps  I  can  find  an  old  desk  somewhere," 
she  said,  after  considering  the  matter.  "  You  can 
have  the  table  and  that  extra  cupboard  if  you'll 
promise  not  to  interfere  with  my  having  the  whole 
of  the  desk,  if  I  find  one,  and  I  keep  the  window." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Betty.  To  her  a  table  in 
the  hand  was  worth  far  more  than  any  desks  in 
the  bush. 

And  this  important  matter  being  settled,  they 
went  down-stairs  to  join  the  rest  of  the  family  at 
their  first  supper  at  the  farm. 

The  next  morning  was  even  more  wonderful 
to  the  Hamiltons  than  the  night  of  their  arrival. 
To  wake  up  in  the  country,  in  rooms  that  were 
strange  and  yet  their  own;  to  look  from  the 
windows  and  see  the  bright  June  sun  lighting  up 

116 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

lake  and  pasture,  garden  and  field,  and  shining 
upon  a  world  so  quiet  and  so  peaceful,  so  far  re- 
moved from  the  noisy  traffic  and  turmoil  of  a  great 
city;  to  feel  the  soft  June  breeze,  to  smell  the 
sweet  June  perfumes,  to  hear  the  birds  singing 
their  June  songs — could  it  be  the  world  in  which 
they  had  awakened  only  yesterday,  the  yesterday 
which  now  seemed  weeks  or  months  ago? 

Pauline  lingered  over  her  dressing,  for  most  of 
it  was  done  at  her  favorite  window,  and  it  is  not 
easy  to  button  your  boots  or  brush  your  hair 
when  you  are  at  the  same  time  studying  a  distant 
landscape ;  but  Betty  wasted  no  precious  moments 
in  poetic  meditations.  She  was  soon  ready  for 
action,  and  with  a  parting  injunction  to  Pauline 
to  "hurry  up  and  come  down,"  she  left  the  room 
and  began  the  day. 

The  first  thing  to  be  visited  was  the  lake.  It 
had  been  too  late  when  they  finished  supper  the 
night  before — at  least  so  her  parents  thought, 
not  Betty — to  descend  the  path,  and  therefore 
it  must  now  be  done  at  once.  Betty  had  made 
many  plans  about  the  lake.  There  was  to  be  a 
sail-boat,  a  row-boat,  a  canoe,  and  a  motor-boat — 
according  to  Miss  Betty.  She  loved  the  water, 
and  had  passed  many  of  her  summers  at  the  sea- 
shore. A  lake  was  but  a  poor  substitute  for  an 
ocean,  but  better  than  no  water  at  all,  in  which 
opinion  Charles  agreed  with  her.  She  found  him 

117 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

already  on  the  little  strip  of  sandy  beach  at  the 
foot  of  the  path  when  she  reached  it. 

"There's  an  old  boat-house,"  he  said,  "and  I 
mean  to  ask  father  to  let  me  have  a  man  to-day 
to  help  me  and  we'll  try  to  put  it  into  better  shape. 
It  needs  shingling.  There's  an  old  boat  here, 
too.  Looks  as  if  Noah  had  used  it  when  he  took 
Mrs.  Noah  rowing  by  moonlight.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  it  were  really  about  a  hundred  years 
old.  Look  at  it,  half  full  of  water." 

"When  are  the  new  boats  coming?" 

"Oh,  we're  only  going  to  have  one  at  first. 
Father  says  he's  been  spending  so  much  on  this 
place  he'll  have  to  go  easy  for  a  while.  He's 
going  to  buy  a  good  row-boat,  and  I'm  going  to 
put  that  money  I've  saved  up  into  a  canoe — that 
is,  if  I  get  any  money  on  my  birthday,  next  week, 
to  help  out." 

"And  aren't  we  going  to  have  a  sail-boat  and 
a  motor-boat?"  asked  Betty. 

"Not  this  year,  anyway,  and  I  don't  see  what 
we  want  either  for.  There's  a  lot  to  do  on  land. 
It  isn't  like  being  on  the  coast,  where  you  have 
to  be  on  the  water  all  the  time  if  you  want  any 
fun." 

Betty  did  not  reply.  This  would  have  been  a 
crushing  disappointment  to  her  had  she  been 
told  of  it  in  New  York,  but  here  on  the  spot, 
where,  as  Charles  said,  there  was  so  much  else  to 

118 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

do,  she  really  did  not  care.  She  was  investigat- 
ing the  shore  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the 
path.  Presently  she  gave  a  loud  shout  which 
evidently  meant  some  great  discovery. 

"Charles,  do  come  here!  Quick!  I've  found 
— oh,  Charles,  I'm  sure  it's  an  underground 
passage!" 

Charles  was  very  busy  with  the  old  boat.  "All 
right.  It  will  keep,"  he  replied. 

"  Oh,  it's  wonderful !"  cried  Betty.  "  I'm  creep- 
ing in!  It  leads  ever  so  far."  Her  voice  grew 
fainter  as  she  ventured  farther  into  the  opening. 

Presently  she  emerged  again.  "I'm  going  to 
explore  it  'way  in,"  she  said.  "  I  would  have  now, 
only  I  thought  it  would  soon  be  breakfast-time 
and  I'm  so  hungry.  It  is  most  mysterious.  You 
must  look  at  it,  Charles." 

She  finally  persuaded  him  to  leave  the  ancient 
boat  and  examine  the  opening.  It  was  at  the 
base  of  the  steep  bank,  and  seemed  to  have  been 
made  by  man,  not  formed  by  nature.  It  was 
lined  with  stones,  and  the  entrance  was  so  over- 
grown with  bushes  that  it  would  not  be  noticed 
by  the  casual  visitor  to  the  shore  of  the  lake. 
Betty's  sharp  eyes,  eager  to  find  all  that  there  was 
of  interest,  had  seen  it  at  once.  Charles  was  dis- 
tinctly impressed  by  her  discovery. 

"It  is  an  underground  passage,"  said  he.  "I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  it  led  right  up  to  the  house. 

119 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

I  bet  they  built  it  so  as  to  escape  from  the  Indians. 
This  is  such  an  old  house  it  must  have  been  built 
in  the  days  of  Indians.  Don't  say  anything  about 
it,  Betty.  We'll  have  some  fun  with  it  before 
we  tell  the  others.  We  can  play  some  joke  on 
the  maids,  or  something  like  that.  Now  don't 
tell!" 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Betty,  promptly,  de- 
lighted to  have  a  secret  with  Charles,  and  equally 
pleased  at  his  feeling  that  her  find  was  of  suf- 
ficient importance  to  be  kept  a  secret. 

And  then  the  breakfast-bell  was  heard  ringing, 
and  they  joyfully  obeyed  its  summons  and  re- 
turned to  the  house.  After  breakfast  it  was 
necessary  to  decide  about  gardens,  to  divide  up 
the  land  allotted  to  them  for  that  purpose,  and 
to  choose  whether  they  should  raise  flowers  or 
vegetables.  The  barn  had  to  be  explored,  the 
hennery  investigated,  the  question  of  incubators 
inquired  into  (for  Charles  meditated  making  a 
fortune  in  selling  eggs  to  his  mother,  and  for  a 
time  an  incubator  seemed  a  better  investment  for 
idle  money  than  a  canoe),  the  shingling  of  the 
boat-house  must  be  begun,  and  altogether  there 
was  so  much  to  occupy  every  one  that  the  under- 
ground passage  was  entirely  forgotten,  and  neither 
Charles  nor  Betty  thought  of  it  again  for  a  long 
time. 

At  about  three  o'clock  that  afternoon,  when 
120 


MISS    BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

Mrs.  Hamilton,  after  a  busy  morning,  had  gone 
to  her  room  to  rest,  two  figures  were  seen  ap- 
proaching by  Florence  and  Pauline.  They  were 
those  of  a  tall,  thin  woman,  who  walked  with  a 
hurried,  nervous  step,  and  a  young  girl  of  about 
Pauline's  age.  They  came  up  the  rough,  grass- 
grown  avenue  which  led  to  the  house,  and  passing 
without  a  glance  the  end  of  the  eastern  porch, 
where  the  Hamilton  girls  were  sitting,  they  went 
to  the  front  door  and  rang  the  bell. 

"Who  can  they  be?"  whispered  Florence. 
"You  go  and  see  what  they  want,  Paul;  the 
maids  are  so  busy."  Florence  was  comfortably 
placed  in  the  hammock,  and  thought  it  would  be 
much  easier  for  Pauline  to  rise  than  for  her  to  do 
so.  Besides,  of  what  use  would  be  a  younger 
sister  if  not  to  go  on  errands? 

Pauline  laid  aside  her  book  and  went  around 
the  corner  of  the  house,  accompanied  by  Brownie, 
barking  violently  at  the  strangers. 

"Do  you  wish  to  see  any  of  the  family?"  she 
asked. 

Pauline  was  not  pretty — in  fact,  she  was  con- 
sidered rather  plain  in  comparison  with  her  two 
sisters;  but  her  manner  was  so  pleasant,  her  voice 
so  cordial,  and  her  eyes  so  friendly  that  most 
people  found  her  very  attractive.  The  young 
girl,  who  was  no  other  than  Rachel  Amy  Martin, 

looked  at  her  with  interest.    She  had  not  wished 
121 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

to  come  this  afternoon  because  she  did  not  care 
for  Betty,  but  her  mother  had  insisted  that  she 
should  accompany  her  to  make  the  call  which 
Mrs.  Martin  had  determined  to  pay  without  delay. 
She  was  glad  that  this  was  not  Betty,  and  won- 
dered if  it  could  be  a  sister,  and  where  Betty 
might  be. 

Mrs.  Martin  turned  quickly  and  confronted 
Pauline. 

"Well,  I  guess  that's  what  we've  come  for," 
she  replied,  with  her  usual  asperity.  *'I  guess 
nothin'  else  would  bring  us  up  this  hill.  P'r'aps 
you  thought  we'd  come  to  see  some  of  the  help. 
If  so,  you're  mistaken.  I'd  thank  you  if  you'd 
stop  that  dog  barkin'.  I'm  Mrs.  Martin,  one  of 
the  Maybury  Centre  ladies,  and  I've  come  to  call 
on  Mrs.  Hamilton.  Bein*  a  stranger  here,  I 
thought  she'd  feel  kind  o'  lonesome  and  I'd  call 
without  delay.  Of  course,  it's  my  place  to  come 
first.  It's  etiquettical,  and  I  always  was  one 
as  paid  great  attention  to  what's  etiquettical. 
Whatever  my  faults,  I'm  not  caught  nappin' 
that  way.  You're  one  of  the  hired  help,  I  sup- 
pose. A  half-grown  girl  can  make  herself  real 
handy." 

Pauline  laughed.  "I'm  Pauline  Hamilton," 
she  said.  "I  will  tell  my  mother  you  are  here. 
Will  you  come  in?" 

Mrs.  Martin  was  at  first  quite  overcome  at  hav- 

122 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

ing  mistaken  a  daughter  of  the  house  for  "hired 
help."  "But,"  as  she  said  afterward,  "who 
would  have  supposed  that  a  young  lady  accus- 
tomed to  New  York  city  life  would  be  in  a  plain 
chintz  dress,  as  plain  as  a  pike-staff,  at  three 
o'clock  of  an  afternoon,  which,  as  every  one 
knows,  is  the  proper  hour  for  paying  and  re- 
ceiving calls?" 

She  murmured  an  apology  for  her  mistake  and 
followed  Pauline  into  the  living-room,  into  which 
the  front  door  opened.  The  room,  which  had  once 
been  the  "best  parlor  "  of  the  farm-house,  had  been 
thrown  into  one  with  the  hall,  making  a  very  large 
room,  from  which  the  narrow,  old-fashioned  stair- 
case led  directly  up  to  the  second  floor.  Mrs. 
Martin  looked  about  her  with  a  critical  eye. 
There  was  no  plush-covered  parlor  set,  no  centre- 
table,  no  corner  etagere,  or  what-not,  as  were  to 
be  found  in  all  well-regulated  best  parlors.  There 
was  no  melodeon,  although  there  was  an  upright 
piano,  which  stood  open,  and  upon  the  top  of  which 
there  was  not  a  single  ornament. 

"I  presume  they're  not  fixed  up  yet,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Martin,  audibly,  to  Rachel  Amy.  "That's 
one  reason  why  I  sh'd  have  preferred  to  call  later; 
but  I'd  no  intention  of  lettin'  that  Miss  Lucetta 
Smith  get  ahead  of  me  on  this,  as  I've  remarked 
before,  Rachel  Amy.  •  That  girl  didn't  look  a 
mite  like  the  red-headed  one,  did  she?  Well, 

123 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

it's  real  plain  here,  I  must  say.  Look  at  those 
rugs!  And  as  for  that  wilier  rocker,  it  couldn't 
have  cost  more'n — " 

"  Mother,"  whispered  Rachel  Amy,  imploringly, 
"they  can  hear  right  up  those  stairs!" 

Before  her  mother  had  time  to  reply,  which,  to 
judge  from  her  expression,  would  have  been  done 
quickly  and  scathingly,  Mrs.  Hamilton  came  down 
the  stairs  in  question. 

"Mrs.  Martin?"  she  said,  cordially,  as  she  shook 
hands.  "And  this  must  be  your  daughter,  whom 
I  have  heard  my  Betty  speak  of.  Your  name  is 
Rachel  Amy,  isn't  it?" 

Rachel  Amy  felt  distinctly  pleased  that  her 
name  should  be  remembered,  and  she  smiled  at 
the  lady  who  greeted  her  so  kindly. 

"You  will  like  to  go  out  on  the  piazza  with 
Pauline,  I  am  sure,  while  we  elders  sit  inside.  I 
don't  know  where  Betty  is.  She  has  been  out-of- 
doors  all  day,  she  is  so  glad  to  get  to  the  country. 
Perhaps  you  can  find  her,  Pauline,  for  I  have  no 
doubt  Rachel  Amy  has  come  to  see  her." 

"No  matter  about  looking  up  Betty,"  said 
Rachel  Amy,  as  the  two  girls  left  the  room,  "I'm 
just  as  pleased  to  call  on  you." 

Pauline  introduced  her  to  Florence,  and  the 
three  manufactured  conversation  on  the  porch 
while  their  mothers  did  the  same  in  the  house. 
At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  Mrs.  Martin  rose  to  go. 

124 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

"I  want  you  should  come  to  a  four-o'clock  at 
my  house,"  said  she.  "I'll  send  you  a  card  when 
the  time  comes.  I  know  what's  the  proper  thing 
to  do.  I'm  going  to  ask  some  of  the  Maybury 
Centre  ladies  to  meet  you — not  all  of  'em,  by  any 
means.  I  intend  to  pick  and  choose  the  best,  and 
I  shall  invite  a  friend  of  mine  from  West  Maybury. 
Mrs.  Davis  is  one  of  my  most  intimate  friends  over 
there.  She  visits  in  New  York  city,  and  just  as 
likely  as  not  you've  met  before.  I'd  like  your 
young  folks  to  come,  too.  I'll  send  out  cards." 

She  called  Rachel  Amy,  and  presently  they  were 
going  down  the  avenue  with  the  same  hurried 
step  with  which  they  had  come.  Mrs.  Hamilton 
watched  them.  She  was  on  the  porch  with  her 
daughters,  and  when  the  visitors  were  out  of  sight 
she  turned  to  the  girls  with  an  amused  face. 

"What  an  extraordinary  woman  our  first  call- 
er is!"  she  said.  "She  practically  informed  me 
that  she  was  surprised  to  find  me  in  a  morning 
dress  at  this  hour.  I  am  afraid  Maybury  customs 
in  the  matter  of  dress  are  going  to  be  more  rigor- 
ous than  those  of  New  York.  And  she  also  told 
me  that  she  was  engaged  to  be  married,  but  was 
in  no  hurry  to  change  her  state.  Betty,  here  you 
are  at  last!  Where  have  you  been,  child?  You 
have  missed  a  caller — two  callers." 

"Oh,  I  saw  them,"  said  Betty,  as  she  came  up 
the  steep  path  from  the  lake.  "It  was  Rachel 

125 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

Amy  and  her  mother.  That's  the  reason  I  stayed 
away." 

"I  like  that  Rachel  Amy,"  said  Pauline, 
thoughtfully.  "She  looks  as  if  she  didn't  have 
much  fun,  and  she  felt  so  sorry  because  her  mother 
made  a  mistake  and  thought  I  was  one  of  the 
maids." 

"We  are  all  invited,  or  going  to  be  invited,  there 
to  a  'four -o'clock/"  continued  Mrs.  Hamilton. 
"Only  the  best  people  are  to  be  asked  to  meet  us, 
and  not  'that Miss  Lucetta  Smith/  who  lives  next 
door  to  the  Martins.  Who  can  she  be?  Some 
one  quite  beneath  notice  from  a  social  stand- 
point, Mrs.  Martin  seems  to  think." 

"Why,  it  is  her  own  sister!"  exclaimed  Betty. 
"And  they  live  in  the  same  house  with  a  wire 
netting  between.  They're  the  ones  I  told  you 
about.  She  is  engaged  to  Tim  Tarleton,  the  man 
who  drives  a  station  carriage." 

"We  must  go  to  the  party,"  said  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton. "I  am  quite  curious  to  see  the  netting. 
That  poor  little  Rachel  Amy!  I  feel  very  sorry 
for  her." 

" So  do  I,"  said  Pauline.  "I  mean  to  be  friends 
with  Rachel  Amy." 

"I  wish  you  would,"  said  Betty;  "that  would 
take  her  off  my  hands.  I  like  Lucy  Smith  best, 
though  she's  a  terrible  coward,  and  behaved  like 

a  little  goose  once  when  we  were  caught  in  a  bad 
120 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

scrape  last  year.  But  you're  welcome  to  Rachel 
Amy." 

"Let  us  do  all  we  can  for  her,"  said  their 
mother.  "It  is  sad  for  a  girl  to  be  placed  in  her 
position." 

"I  suppose  it  is,"  assented  Betty,  "but  there  is 
something  about  Rachel  Amy  Martin  that  always 
makes  me  cross." 

"Betty,  isn't  that  unreasonable?" 

"  Or  is  it  unusual  ?"  added  Florence.  ' '  So  many 
people  and  things  make  you  cross." 

"It  must  run  in  the  family,"  said  Betty.  "I 
take  after  my  eldest  sister." 

Pauline  laughed.     "She's  got  you  there,  Flo." 

"Children,  I  don't  like  to  have  you  talk  to 
one  another  in  that  way,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton. 
"What  would  either  one  of  you  do  if  you  had  no 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  were  alone  with  such  a 
very  disagreeable  mother  as  Mrs.  Martin  seems 
to  be?  And  perhaps  she  has  had  something  in 
her  life  to  make  her  so.  You  never  can  tell. 
Illness,  or  sorrow,  or  poverty,  or  disgrace  of  some 
sort  may  have  soured  and  sharpened  her.  Any 
one  of  us  might  become  like  that  if  we  met  with 
great  trouble,  and  had  not  sufficient  strength  of 
mind  to  stand  up  against  it." 

"Not  you,  darling  mother!"  exclaimed  Pauline, 
going  to  her  and  giving  her  a  hug.  "You  would 
only  get  lovelier  and  lovelier;  wouldn't  she,  girls?" 

"9  127 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

"Indeed  she  would!"  said  Florence  and  Betty 
together,  in  perfect  harmony  once  more.  Their 
little  disagreements  and  differences  never  lasted 
long.  The  Hamiltons  all  loved  one  another  dear- 
ly, and  their  disputes  were  only  such  as  are  bound 
to  arise  among  a  number  of  brothers  and  sisters 
who  are  growing  up  together,  each  with  his  or 
her  own  strong  will,  and  with  the  first  unfolding 
of  a  yet  uncertain  character. 

"You  flatter  me,  dear  ones,"  said  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton. "But  I  want  you  all  to  be  good  to  that  poor 
child.  I  feel  so  very  sorry  for  her.  I  could  see 
that  she  was  afraid  of  her  mother." 

"I  should  think  she  would  be,"  said  Betty. 
"That  Mrs.  Martin  is  a  perfectly  awful  person. 
Miss  Lucetta  Smith  is  very  nice,  and  she  and 
Rachel  Amy  used  to  be  so  fond  of  each  other; 
and  now,  since  Miss  Lucetta  adopted  George  and 
Lucy,  poor  Rachel  Amy  isn't  allowed  to  speak 
to  her.  If  Rachel  Amy  were  not  such  a  proud 
person,  I  suppose  I  should  like  her  better.  Of 
course,  I  am  sorry  for  her.  If  her  mother  would 
only  marry  Tim  Tarleton  and  go  off  somewhere, 
and  leave  Rachel  Amy  with  her  aunt  Lucetta, 
how  nice  it  would  be!  Yes,  I  feel  very  sorry  for 
Rachel  Amy.  But  she  is  so  proud!" 

"How  do  you  mean?"  asked  Pauline. 

"Well,  I  mean  stuck-up  —  about  her  long 
braid,  for  instance.  If  I  had  a  long  braid  of  hair 

128 


MISS  BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

I  never  should  mention  to  my  dearest,  most  in- 
timate friend  how  many  twists  there  were  in  it. 
She  did,  almost  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  her,  and 
it  was  in  Sunday-school."  Betty  shook  her  own 
curly  head  very  wisely  and  with  great  superiority 
as  she  spoke. 

"I  don't  think  that  was  so  dreadful,"  said 
Pauline,  who  had  definitely  established  herself 
as  the  friend  and  champion  of  Rachel  Amy. 

"But  she  always  acts  so  very  stuck-up  about 
everything.  She  makes  you  feel  as  if  she  thought 
herself  ever  so  much  gooder  than  you  are." 

"Oh,  that  may  be  your  imagination,  Betty," 
said  her  mother.  "But  I  believe  we  are  going 
to  have  another  visitor — two,  in  fact :  General 
Keith  and  Christopher!  Betty,  go  tell  your  fa- 
ther General  Keith  is  here."  And  she  added,  in 
a  lower  tone:  "I  shall  have  to  dress  early  in  May- 
bury,  I  see." 

General  Keith  and  his  grandson  were  on  horse- 
back. The  boy  had  expressed  a  desire  to  ride 
over  to  see  the  Hamiltons,  and  to  his  surprise, 
the  General  had  said  that  he  would  go  also.  He 
knew  that  his  grandfather,  not  being  of  a  genial 
disposition,  was  averse  to  making  calls,  and  he 
was  glad  that  he  evidently  intended  being  on 
terms  of  friendliness,  if  not  intimacy,  with  the 
Hamiltons.  He  supposed  that  it  was  because 
of  the  connection  by  marriage  between  them 

129 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

and  the  family  of  his  grandfather,  for  Mr.  Ham- 
ilton's sister  had  married  Ludovic  Lewis,  his 
grandmother's  nephew.  It  did  not  occur  to  him 
that  General  Keith  was  making  this  great  effort 
and  altering  his  usual  habits  solely  on  his  account. 
If  the  boy  wished  to  go  the  General  would  go,  too. 
He  could  not  bear  to  have  him  out  of  his  sight 
even  for  an  hour  or  so.  Therefore,  the  two  came 
together;  and  while  Chris  went  off  with  Pauline 
and  Betty  to  look  for  Mr.  Hamilton  and  Charles, 
General  Keith  talked  in  his  stately,  courteous  way 
to  Mrs.  Hamilton  and  Florence,  and  impatiently 
awaited  the  boy's  return.  It  was  evident  to  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  who  was  a  keen  observer,  that  the  old 
man  had  become  completely  absorbed  in  his 
grandson,  or,  rather,  that  he  intended  to  absorb 
the  boy  in  himself,  and  she  felt  a  pang  of  pity  for 
the  child,  just  as  she  had  felt  for  Rachel  Amy, 
although  the  circumstances  of  the  two  were  so 
different. 

Mr.  Hamilton  and  Charles  were  found  down 
at  the  boat-house.  They  were  shingling  it  them- 
selves, and  Mr.  Hamilton  was  so  pleased  with  his 
carpentry  that  he  forsook  it  rather  unwillingly 
to  go  to  his  visitor.  Charles  was  too  much  ab- 
sorbed in  it  to  pay  much  attention  to  the  chil- 
dren, and  presently  they  left  him,  and,  after  ex- 
ploring the  shore  of  the  lake  and  looking  at  the 
boat  with  a  strong  desire  to  try  it  in  spite  of 

130 


its  leakiness,  they  climbed  the  steep  path  again, 
and  Betty  and  Chris  went  to  the  big  barn  while 
Pauline  returned  to  the  house. 

"Has  Rachel  Amy  been  here?"  asked  Chris- 
topher, as  soon  as  he  was  alone  with  Betty. 

"Yes.    How  did  you  know  it?" 

"We  met  them  on  the  road.  I  thought  they 
must  have  been  here.  Mrs.  Martin  hates  me  now. 
She  just  glared  at  me,  and  she  wouldn't  let 
Rachel  Amy  speak  to  me." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  she  thinks  I  gave  Lucy  Smith  a 
present.  She  came  up  to  see  grandfather  about 
it." 

"Why,  Chris!  What  do  you  mean?"  asked 
Betty,  deeply  interested.  "Let's  sit  down  here 
on  this  pile  of  hay,  and  you  tell  me  all  about  it. 
Here  is  some  candy  I  got  in  the  village — sassa- 
fras sticks;  it  is  lovely.  Now  go  on  and  tell 
me." 

"Fm  afraid  I  can't.  You  see,  it's  a  great 
secret,"  said  Chris,  accepting  a  stick  of  candy 
with  manifest  pleasure. 

"A  secret?  Aren't  you  going  to  tell  me? 
Why,  Christopher  Lovel!  And  I  tell  you  all  my 
secrets  (at  least,  I  did  last  summer),  and  I  mean 
to  this  year,  too  —  that  is,  if  you  will  do  the 
same." 

"But  I  didn't  tell  this  even  to  grandfather, 

131 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

because  I  had  promised  I  wouldn't.  He  trusted 
me,  and  said  he  wouldn't  ask  me  any  more  if 
I  had  promised;  but  he  didn't  like  it  very 
much." 

"But  what  did  you  do  that  Mrs.  Martin  didn't 
like?  That  can't  be  a  secret,  if  she  knows  it 
and  went  to  see  your  grandfather.  You  can  at 
least  tell  me  that  much." 

"Grandfather  said  it  was  all  nonsense.  He 
was  very  angry  with  Mrs.  Martin.  The  day 
after  we  came  up  here  I  took  something  to  Lucy 
Smith.  I  had  been  asked  by  some  one  to  give 
it  to  her,  and  Mrs.  Martin  heard  me  and  thought 
I  was  giving  charity,  as  she  called  it,  to  Lucy, 
and  she  came  up  and  told  grandfather  that  I  had. 
Grandfather  was  very  angry  at  being  interrupted. 
We  were  playing  the  violin  when  she  came.  He 
told  her  I  was  at  liberty  to  give  away  as  much  as 
I  liked;  but  afterward  he  asked  me  about  it,  and 
didn't  like  it  because  I  couldn't  explain  it  all  to 
him.  However,  he  said  he  trusted  me." 

"I  think  I  know  what  it  was,"  said  Betty. 
"It  was  something  George  sent  Lucy." 

"Why,  Betty!"  cried  Chris.  "How  did  you 
guess  it?  You  are  the  most  wonderful  person!" 

"Oh,  I  saw  George  Smith  yesterday  when  we 
changed  cars.  He  was  waiting  to  go  back  on  the 
train  to  Boston.  I  didn't  have  time  to  speak  to 
him.  So  now  I  have  guessed  this  much,  I  don't 

132 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

see  why  you  shouldn't  tell  me  more.  I'll  be  very 
careful  never  to  tell." 

Christopher  considered  the  matter.  "  Mrs.  Mar- 
tin is  telling  the  whole  village  that  Miss  Lucetta 
and  Lucy  are  living  on  charity,"  he  said,  at  last. 
"I  feel  so  sorry,  and  if  I  could  only  see  George 
or  get  word  to  him  somehow  I  should  ask  him  if 
I  might  tell." 

"You  leave  me  to  manage  it,"  said  Betty.  "I 
can  guess  the  whole  thing.  He  sent  Lucy  some 
money  by  you,  and  Mrs.  Martin  overheard  you, 
and  thought  you  were  giving  Lucy  money  your- 
self. She  is  an  awful  woman,  Chris.  My  mother 
thinks  we  ought  to  do  something  for  Rachel  Amy, 
and  I  am  going  to  think  up  something — I'm  not 
quite  sure  what." 

"I  don't  see  what  we  can  do.  Her  mother  is 
with  her  all  the  time.  But,  Betty,  you  mustn't 
do  anything  to  manage  that  about  George.  You 
know  I  promised  him,  and  I  haven't  told  you  now; 
you  only  guessed  it.  Please  don't  do  anything, 
will  you?" 

"Oh,  well,  not  if  you  don't  want  me  to.  But 
there  is  something  else  I  must  do.  I  don't  care 
much  for  Rachel  A.my,  but  I  should  like  to  rescue 
her  from  her  misery." 

"Betty,  how  could  you  do  anything?" 

"  I  don't  know.    Maybe  I'll  think  of  something." 

Chris  looked  at  her  as  though  he  considered  her 

133 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

quite  capable  of  accomplishing  even  such  an 
undertaking  as  that  would  be. 

"Didn't  George  look  nice  in  his  uniform?"  said 
she,  presently. 

"Yes,  it  must  be  great  fun  to  be  a  railroad 
man.  I  mean  to,  if  I  ever  have  to  work  for  my 
living." 

"And  sell  papers  on  the  train?  As  if  your 
grandfather  would  let  you  do  that!  Why,  Chris, 
he  has  loads  and  loads  of  money." 

"  I  might  have  to,"  said  the  boy.  "  But  there's 
grandfather  calling.  It  must  be  time  to  go. 
What  shall  I  call  my  pony,  Betty?  I  have  been 
waiting  for  you  to  come  to  name  him." 

"Have  you,  really?  Well,  I've  thought  of  a 
name  right  away." 

"What  is  it?  I  knew  you'd  know  of  a  good 
one." 

"  I  never  heard  of  a  horse  that  was  named  this, 
but  I  like  it.  Will  you  promise  to  call  him  by  it, 
whether  you  like  it  or  not?" 

"Yes!"  exclaimed  Chris,  recklessly. 

"Then  his  name  is  to  be  Sassafras." 

"Sassafras!  Why,  Betty,  what  a  name  for  a 
horse !" 

"You  promised,  and  it  is  a  splendid  name — so 
hissy  and  stingy.  You'd  know  a  horse  named 
Sassafras  was  a  fast  one.  Here,  take  another 
stick." 

134 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

"All  right,"  said  Christopher,  slowly.  "It's  a 
queer  one,  but  I  rather  like  it."  He  accepted  the 
candy,  and  presently  he  had  mounted  his  pony, 
and  he  and  his  grandfather  rode  away  through 
the  woods. 


IX 


"/CHRISTOPHER,"  said  General  Keith  one 
V^  morning,  "there  is  something  I  wish  to  speak 
to  you  about  very  particularly." 

The  boy  was  sitting  on  the  piazza  steps.  A 
humming-bird  was  in  the  honeysuckle,  and  while 
he  watched  it  he  wondered  what  he  should  do 
that  morning.  He  wished  very  much  to  drive 
over  to  the  Hamiltons'.  His  grandfather  had 
given  him  a  pretty  runabout,  and  his  chief  desire 
now  was  to  show  it  to  Betty,  who  had  not  yet 
seen  it.  He  was  afraid  that  if  he  suggested  going 
his  grandfather  would  accompany  him  or  would 
send  Ben  with  him,  and  he  liked  occasionally  to 
be  independent  of  others.  Calling  at  the  Hamil- 
tons' with  his  grandfather  was  very  different 
from  a  long  morning  of  play  or  work  with  Betty 
and  Pauline,  and  occasionally  Charles.  Chris  felt 
a  deep  admiration  for  Charles,  and  was  always 
pleased  when  the  older  boy  vouchsafed  him  even  a 
small  amount  of  attention.  He  did  not  feel  at 
all  in  the  mood  for  discussing  matters  of  im- 
portance with  his  grandfather.  On  a  beautiful 

136 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

summer  morning  like  this  there  was  so  much  that 
was  more  entertaining  to  do. 

"Do  you,  grandfather?"  he  said,  without  turn- 
ing round.  "I  wonder  if  that  humming-bird  has 
a  nest  anywhere  round  here.  Did  you  ever  see 
a  humming-bird's  nest,  grand?" 

"Certainly — certainly.  But  never  mind  about 
that  now,  Christopher." 

The  General  rose  from  his  chair  on  the  porch, 
and  began  to  walk  up  and  down.  Christopher 
knew  from  this  that  he  considered  the  subject 
of  especial  importance.  He  wondered  if  they  were 
going  away  from  Maybury  —  perhaps  to  travel 
again.  He  hoped  not,  just  as  the  Hamiltons  had 
come. 

"Christopher,"  said  the  General,  "I  wish  you 
to  take  my  name." 

"Your  name,  grandfather?  Baldwin,  do  you 
mean?" 

"No,  that  is  not  necessary.  You  should  have 
been  named  Baldwin  in  the  first  place,  but  you 
were  not." 

"I  was  named  for  my  father,"  said  the  boy, 
flushing  slightly.  "I  was  Christopher  Lovel,  Jr., 
until — until  my  father  died." 

"I  know  that — I  know  that.  No  need  to  tell 
me  that.  All  that  is  over  and  done  with.  You 
are  not  junior  now.  You  are  my  grandson,  how- 
ever, and,  considering  the  large  interests  that 
137 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

are  involved,  I  think  it  would  be  better  and  more 
suitable  if  you  were  to  take  the  name  of  Keith." 

"But  my  name  is  not  Keith,  it  is  Lovel." 

"It  can  very  easily  be  changed.  By  applying 
to  the  legislature  and  going  through  certain  legal 
proceedings  your  name  can  be  changed  by  law 
from  Lovel  to  Keith.  If  you  chose,  you  could  still 
keep  the  Lovel  as  a  middle  name;  in  fact,  that 
might  be  a  good  plan.  But  I  want  you  to  bear 
the  name  of  Keith.  You  will,  in  all  probability, 
inherit  the  greater  part  of  my  fortune.  It  is 
Keith  money.  It  came  from  my  father.  There 
has  always  been  money  in  my  family.  My  first 
ancestor  in  this  country  was  Sir  Baldwin  Keith, 
who  came  over  in  1670.  We  have  been  named 
Baldwin  from  father  to  son  ever  since.  My  son" 
— his  voice  trembled  slightly — "was  Baldwin. 
The  last  of  his  line — the  last  of  his  line."  He 
paced  up  and  down  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes. 
When  he  spoke  again  his  voice  was  as  cold  and 
severe  as  usual. 

"Now,  then,"  said  he,  "I  shall  take  measures 
at  once  to  have  your  name  changed  to  Keith." 

"But  it  is  not  Keith,"  said  Christopher. 

"I  know  it  is  not!"  The  old  man  spoke  irasci- 
bly now.  "I  have  just  explained  to  you,  Chris- 
topher, how  such  a  matter  is  arranged.  I  intend 
to  have  it  made  Keith." 

"But  I  don't  want  it  to  be  Keith,  grandfather." 

138 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

"You  don't  want  it  to  be!  And  why  not,  may 
I  ask?  What  possible  objection  can  you  have, 
sir,  to  the  name  of  Keith?" 

When  the  General  said  "sir"  to  Chris  it  meant 
that  he  was  becoming  annoyed. 

"I  have  no  objection  to  it,  grandfather.  I 
think  it  is  a  very  nice  name.  But  it  wasn't  my 
father's  name." 

"But  I  have  explained  to  you  why  I  wish  you 
to  take  it.  I  prefer  that  the  Keith  money  should 
go  with  the  name  of  Keith." 

"Isn't  there  anybody  of  that  name  you  could 
give  the  money  to?" 

"No,  sir,  there  is  not!  And  I  am  not  contem- 
plating giving  the  money  to  any  one.  It  is  a 
question  of  leaving  it.  I  shall  not  live  forever. 
There  is  no  more  proper  person  to  inherit  all  this" 
— his  glance  wandered  over  the  beautiful  pros- 
pect as  he  spoke:  the  lawns,  the  flower  garden, 
the  oddly  shaped  trees,  the  woods  and  fields,  all  his 
own,  and  yet  some  day  he  must  pass  on  to  some- 
thing else  and  be  "buried  with  his  fathers,"  the 
other  Baldwin  Keiths,  who  also  had  been  obliged 
to  leave  behind  them  the  great  fortune  that  had 
been  doubling  and  trebling  itself  for  so  many 
years — "there  is  no  more  proper  person  to  in- 
herit all  this  than  my  grandson,  but  he  must  bear 
the  name  of  Keith." 

"You  are  very  kind,  grand,"  began  Christopher. 

139 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

"Kind!"  shouted  the  General.  "Don't  speak 
of  me  as  being  kind.  Why  shouldn't  I  be  kind? 
You  are  my  daughter's  son.  You  have  as  much 
right  to  it  all  as  though  you  had  been  my  son's 
son." 

"But  not  to  the  name.  You  see,  there  was 
father.  I  am  father's  son.  And  his  name  was 
Christopher  Lovel.  And — and  he  spoke  to  me 
once  about  my  name." 

"He  did,  did  he?  And  what  did  he  say  about 
the  name  of  Christopher  Lovel?" 

"He  said  to  take  care  of  it." 

"Take  care  of  it?    What  did  he  mean  by  that?" 

"To  keep  it  bright  and  clean.  He  said  that 
every  Christopher  Lovel  who  ever  lived  had  been 
an  honest  man,  and  he  wanted  me  to  be  one,  too. 
He  said  he  had  no  money  to  give  me,  but  he  had 
given  me  an  honest  name,  and  it  had  never  been 
disgraced.  There  have  been  ever  so  many  Chris- 
topher Levels,  grandfather,  just  as  there  have 
been  Baldwin  Keiths,  only  I  don't  think  the  first 
one  in  this  country  was  a  Sir.  I  guess  he  was  just 
plain  mister." 

"If  that!" 

"What  do  you  mean,  grandfather?" 

"Nothing — nothing!  But  I  see  nothing  in  all 
this  to  prevent  your  changing  your  name." 

"Oh,  grand!  Why,  I  do!  How  could  I  keep 
the  name  bright  and  clean  if  I  gave  it  up?" 

140 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

"Nonsense!  Your  father  would  have  been 
willing  enough  to  have  you  give  it  up  if  he  had 
supposed  you  would  be  the  owner  of  millions  of 
dollars  in  consequence." 

"No,"  said  Chris;  "excuse  me,  grand,  but  I 
don't  think  so.  My  father  used  to  tell  me  that 
money  wasn't  everything.  He  said  a  kind  heart 
and  a  forgiving  nature  were  worth  more  than 
money.  My  father  had  to  forgive  somebody,  I 
don't  know  who  it  was — somebody  treated  him 
badly.  A  good  many  people  did  whom  father 
trusted,  but  this  was  some  particular  person  who 
did  him  a  great  wrong.  I  should  like  to  speak 
to  that  person  just  once,  but  I  don't  know  who 
it  was.  Father  never  would  tell  me.  It  was 
somebody  with  a  great  deal  of  money.  Do  you 
know,  grand,  I  think  if  I  ever  found  out  who  it 
was  I  should  just  hate  that  man — for  a  little  while, 
anyway.  I  might  forgive  him  later.  It  seems 
so  awful  to  me  now,  now  that  you  have  given 
me  so  much,  that  my  father  should  have  been  so 
poor,  and  that  any  one  should  have  treated  him 
unkindly.  I  often  think  of  it." 

The  General  paused  in  his  walk  and  stood  be- 
hind the  boy  on  the  steps.  He  cleared  his  throat 
twice  before  he  could  speak.  "Did — did  your 
father  forgive  him,  whoever  it  was?" 

"I  think  he  did — yes,  I'm  sure  he  did.  Who 
do  you  suppose  it  was,  grand?  I  used  sometimes 

141 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

to  think  that  it  might  have  been  you,  because,  of 
course,  father  and  mother  didn't  know  that  all 
that  time  you  were  trying  to  find  us,  and  they 
might  have  felt  pretty  badly  about  it,  knowing 
you  were  so  rich  and  we  were  so  poor.  Of  course, 
now  I  never  think  that.  I  know  you  would  never 
have  been  so  unkind.  I  know  you  so  well  that 
I  am  sure  you  couldn't  ever  have  been  like  that. 
If  I  didn't  know  you  so  well  I  should  feel  the 
same  as  I  used  to  about  it,  but  I  am  so  sure  you 
tried  to  find  us  that  I  don't  feel  angry  about  it 
any  more.  I  wish  they  had  known  it,  too.  Why 
did  you  give  us  up  in  the  first  place,  grand?  Did 
my  mother  do  something  you  didn't  like  besides 
marrying  father?  Of  course,  I  know  that  was 
part  of  it,  because  Mrs.  Toppan  told  me  that  when 
I  first  came  to  Maybury.  But  of  course  there  must 
have  been  something  else,  too." 

"Never  mind  about  that  now,  and  we  will 
finish  our  talk  about  the  name  some  other  time. 
Where  are  you  going  this  morning?" 

Christopher  stood  up.  This  was,  indeed,  a 
pleasant  surprise.  Evidently  his  grandfather 
intended  to  allow  him  a  morning  to  him- 
self. 

"  I  should  like  to  drive  Sassafras  over  to  see  the 
Hamiltons — in  the  runabout,  I  mean.  I  want 
to  show  it  to  Betty.  And  no  matter  about  Ben 
going,  grandfather." 

142 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

"I  don't  know  about  you  going  alone.  Why 
not  take  Ben?" 

"Oh  no,  grandfather!  Please!  May  I  go  with- 
out him?" 

"You  may  go.    Come  home  to  luncheon." 

After  the  boy  had  gone  the  old  man  continued 
his  walk  up  and  down,  up  and  down.  He  had 
much  to  think  about. 

When  Chris  reached  the  Pringle  Farm,  as  the 
Hamiltons  continued  to  call  their  place,  he  found 
a  large  party  of  young  people  assembled  on  the 
piazza.  Sassafras  was  tied  in  the  carriage-house, 
the  runabout  duly  admired  by  Betty,  and  then  she 
informed  him  that  it  was  a  house  party.  Chris- 
topher never  having  heard  of  a  house  party, 
Betty  further  explained  to  him  that  it  consisted 
of  some  friends  of  her  brother  Maurice  and  her 
sister  Florence  who  had  come  to  stay  a  week. 

"And  Maurice  has  come  home  from  college, 
which  makes  another  fellow,"  continued  Betty. 
"That  is  Maurice,  the  one  in  the  oldest  clothes, 
over  there  talking  to  the  girl  in  the  hammock. 
The  other  fellow,  the  one  who  looks  so  spick  and 
span,  is  Bromfield  Hale.  He  is  Maurice's  chum 
at  Harvard.  They  both  got  here  last  night,  but 
the  others  came  day  before  yesterday.  The  girl 
in  the  hammock  is  Josephine  Hale.  She  lives 
at  Stockton,  near  Boston,  and  she  and  Florence 
were  at  boarding-school  together,  and  are  most 

to  143 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

intimate  friends.  She  is  Brom  Hale's  cousin,  and 
she  lives  with  his  father.  She  has  a  sister  Geor- 
giana,  about  Pauline's  age.  They  have  five  boy 
cousins  and  are  the  only  girls  in  the  house.  It 
must  be  great  fun.  I  like  Jo  better  than  any  of 
Florence's  New  York  friends.  She's  not  so  stuck 
up  and  airish.  The  other  girl,  the  one  with  the 
dark  hair,  is  Grace  Fisher.  She  is  from  New 
York.  She  is  simply  crazy  about  the  fellows. 
She  just  shows  it.  I  think  the  boys  like  Jo  Hale 
the  best,  though.  I  am  pretty  sure  Maurice  does. 
The  other  fellow,  the  one  talking  to  Florence,  is 
Jack  Kendal.  He's  very  sweet  on  Flo.  The 
boys  are  all  very  nice  to  me,"  added  Betty,  com- 
placently. "They  all  get  up  and  offer  me  their 
chairs  when  I  come  along,  and  are  very  pleasant. 
They  are  so  afraid  I'll  play  some  trick  on  them." 

This  long  history  was  poured  into  Christopher's 
ears  as  the  children  sat  on  the  bench  between  two 
trees.  From  this  vantage-point  they  obtained 
an  excellent  view  of  the  group  on  the  piazza. 
Christopher  surveyed  the  party  with  much  in- 
terest. 

"It  must  be  nice  to  have  a  house  party," 
he  observed.  "I  wish  grandfather  would  have 
one." 

Betty  laughed.  "It  would  be  a  funny  kind  of 
a  house  party,"  she  said.  "If  it  was  your  grand- 
father's it  would  have  to  be  all  old  men  and  wom- 

144 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW  YORK 

en.  Your  house  parties  are  always  about  the 
same  age  as  yourself,  I  think.  Pauline  is  going 
to  have  one  of  her  friends  later,  but  mother  says 
I  have  got  to  wait  until  next  year.  It  is  horrid  to 
be  the  youngest  and  always  have  to  wait.  Charles 
is  going  to  have  his  friends,  but  only  boys.  He 
says  they  don't  want  to  be  bothered  with  any 
more  girls  than  there  are  here  already.  Charles 
doesn't  care  as  much  about  girls  as  Maurice  does. 
Don't  you  think  my  brother  Maurice  is  very 
good-looking?  There,  I  believe  they've  made  up 
their  minds  at  last!  They've  been  discussing  the 
whole  morning  what  they  would  do  to-day.  What 
are  you  going  to-4oj"  she  called  out. 

But  no  one  paid  any  attention  to  her,  and  it 
was  only  by  leaving  Christopher  and  going  to  the 
piazza  that  she  could  discover  the  reason  for  the 
sudden  stir  in  the  group.  She  beckoned  to  Chris 
to  follow  her,  and  he  came  shyly  forward. 

"They  are  going  out  on  the  lake,  some  of  them, 
and  Maurice  and  Brom  Hale  are  going  to  drive 
down  to  the  village  to  see  if  their  canoes  have 
come.  They  are  coming  up  from  Boston.  Brom 
Hale  is  going  to  be  here  longer  than  the  others, 
so  he  brought  his  canoe,  too.  Chris,  I've  got 
something  for  us  to  do  this  morning.  I'm  so  glad 
you  came  over.  Come  with  me." 

Christopher  was  sorry  to  leave  the  piazza,  but 
Betty's  word  was  usually  law,  and  her  plans  were 

145 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

always  interesting,  so  he  obeyed  her  commands 
and  accompanied  her  around  the  corner  of  the 
house  to  the  kitchen  door.  They  entered,  and 
passed  through  to  a  narrow  hall,  from  which  a 
flight  of  stone  steps  led  down  to  a  cellar. 

"Why,  Betty,  where  are  you  going?"  demanded 
Chris,  much  surprised  to  see  her  descend  these 
stairs. 

"Follow  me  and  ask  no  questions  until  we  are 
out  of  hearing.  No  one  knows  about  this  but 
Charles  and  me,  and  he  said  I  could  tell  you.  Do 
be  careful !  If  the  maids  didn't  happen  to  be  all 
out  of  the  kitchen  they  would  hear  us."  They 
now  had  reached  the  cellar.  "Isn't  this  a  queer, 
splendid  cellar?"  continued  Betty.  "My  father 
says  there  are  no  such  cellars  made  nowadays, 
and  even  he  doesn't  know  the  wonderful  secret 
there  is  about  this  one.  Charles  and  I  found  it 
out.  You  see  this  old  place  which  looks  like  an 
oven  door,  or  a  furnace  door,  built  in  this  stone 
place?  Well,  everybody  but  Charles  and  me 
think  it  is  a  sort  of  closet  where  the  people  used 
to  keep  things  to  keep  them  cold,  but  we  found 
out  that  it  is  really  an  opening  leading  to  an  un- 
derground passage  that  leads  to  the  lake.  Isn't 
it  too  wonderful,  and  just  like  some  exciting 
story?  We  think  they  had  it  made  to  escape 
from  Indians.  Now  I  think  it  would  be  the  great- 
est fun  to  pretend  that  there  are  Indians  up  there 

146 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW   YORK 

now.  We  have  fled  down  here.  The  house  party 
are  the  Indians.  Of  course,  we  are  not  to  know 
that  they  are  going  to  the  lake  themselves,  but 
we  plan  to  escape  to  the  lake  and  get  away  in  our 
old  boat.  We  haven't  heard  them  say  that  they 
were  going  to  get  their  canoes.  We  think  they 
are  doing  something  else  (killing  people  up- 
stairs), and  we  must  escape  if  we  wish  to  save  our 
lives.  Hurry!  hurry!  Crawl  in  after  me,  and 
all  will  be  well." 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  Betty's  tones  were 
so  thrilling,  her  manner  so  urgent,  that  it  was  not 
difficult  to  imagine  that  there  were  Indians  above 
stairs  in  war-paint  and  feathers  who  were  at  that 
moment  engaged  in  wielding  their  tomahawks 
and  gathering  scalps. 

"Not  one  of  the  maids  was  there!"  continued 
Betty,  still  in  the  same  tone  of  terror.  "All  are 
dead  or  fled.  I  did  not  see  mamma!  And  where — 
oh,  where — was  my  dear  little  sister  Pauline  ?  Dead 
or  fled.  My  father  and  brother  were  out  in  the 
barn,  and  were  probably  the  first  victims.  They 
died  covered  with  wounds,  fighting  to  save  their 
family.  Oh,  hurry!  hurry!" 

She  had  crawled  through  the  opening  while  she 
was  speaking.  It  was  only  large  enough  to  allow 
them  to  enter  on  their  hands  and  knees,  but  once 
inside  the  children  could  stand  upright.  It  was 
dark  and  chilly,  but  the  other  end  was  in  sight,  for 

147 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

the  tunnel  had  been  made  under  the  hill,  which 
was  very  steep  at  this  place,  and  through  the 
bushes  which  grew  beyond  the  opening  there 
entered  rays  of  daylight  and  a  glimpse  of  the 
gleaming  water  of  the  lake. 

Christopher  followed  her  closely. 

"Hark!  I  hear  voices!"  exclaimed  Betty. 
"They  have  come  down  the  hill.  We  must  keep 
very  quiet  or  they  will  discover  us.  We  will  go 
close  to  the  opening  and  listen  to  their  plans.  If 
they  don't  find  out  that  we  are  here  they  may  go 
off  in  some  other  direction." 

They  crouched  down  just  inside  the  opening 
and  listened.  The  Indians,  in  the  shape  of  Jo- 
sephine Hale,  Grace  Fisher,  Florence  Hamilton, 
and  Jack  Kendal,  were  standing  within  a  few  feet 
of  the  children,  but  were,  of  course,  quite  uncon- 
scious of  their  proximity. 

"That  boat  isn't  good  for  very  much,"  said 
Florence.  Jack  Kendal  had  stepped  into  it,  and 
with  a  sponge  that  was  lying  in  it  had  begun  to 
bale  it  out.  "Papa  intends  to  get  a  new  one,  and 
he  has  ordered  one;  but  it  hasn't  come  yet. 
Charles  says  that  it  is  all  right  if  it  hasn't  too 
heavy  a  load.  There  is  a  leak  high  up  somewhere 
that  he  hasn't  been  able  to  stop,  but  with  just  two 
in  it  there  is  no  danger  of  getting  wet.  Jack,  why 
don't  you  take  Grace  out  while  we  are  waiting 
for  the  others?  I  am  sure  it  is  just  the  sort  of 

148 


MISS    BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

boat  you  will  enjoy,  captain  of  the  'varsity  eight! 
Yale  would  laugh  to  see  you  in  that  old  tub!" 

This  was  a  bit  cruel,  for  Harvard  had  just  been 
beaten  at  New  London,  but  Florence  had  reasons 
of  her  own  for  wishing  to  be  severe  with  Jack. 
For  the  same  reasons  she  suggested  that  he  should 
take  Grace  out.  He  could  not  very  well  refuse, 
and  then  when  the  other  boys  arrived  with  their 
canoes  it  would  be  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world  for  Bromfield  Hale  to  invite  Florence  to 
go  in  his.  She  would  have  preferred  a  morning 
with  Jack,  even  in  an  old  and  leaking  boat,  but 
she  did  not  intend  that  he  should  guess  this.  He, 
not  very  cordially  it  must  be  confessed,  did  as  he 
was  bidden.  Grace  Fisher  accepted  with  alacrity, 
and  although  they  were  a  long  time  getting  off, 
and  Jack  had  many  things  to  say  before  they  did 
go,  he  finally  pulled  off  and  headed  for  the  middle 
of  the  lake,  and  then  rowed  around  the  wooded 
promontory  that  jutted  out  and  which  finally 
hid  them  from  sight. 

"Now,"  whispered  Betty  to  Chris,  "Flo  and  Jo 
are  going  to  talk  secrets.  Remember  that  they 
are  Indians  left  behind  to  watch  for  us.  If  we 
move,  or  let  them  know  in  any  way  that  we  are 
here,  we  are  all  dead  men.  Be  careful!" 

"But  we  may  hear  their  secrets,"  suggested 
Chris. 

"What  if  we  do?    They  are  Indians  planning 
149' 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

to  scalp  and  massacre  us.  We  have  a  right  to 
hear  their  secrets.  Sh!  Hark!  Listen!" 

The  two  Indians,  quite  ignorant  of  their  dan- 
gerous and  blood-thirsty  characters,  seated  them- 
selves close  to  the  opening  on  a  flat  rock  that  was 
shaded  from  the  July  sun  by  a  clump  of  trees. 

"We  shall  probably  have  to  wait  ages  for  the 
boys,"  said  Florence.  "I  am  glad  I  told  the 
maids  to  put  up  some  luncheon  for  us.  We  shall 
not  get  started  until  so  late  that  it  wouldn't  be 
worth  while  to  go  if  we  had  to  come  back  to 
luncheon.  I  wonder  how  Jack  is  enjoying  the 
boat!" 

"Or  Grace!  Flo,  it  was  too  bad  you  sent  him 
off  with  her.  I  have  an  idea  that  Jack  doesn't 
like  Grace  very  much." 

"Well,  she  likes  him,  so  I  have  made  her 
happy." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  minutes. 

"I  wish  they  would  say  some  more  about  that," 
whispered  Betty  to  Chris.  "It's  the  most  in- 
teresting thing." 

"I  don't  think  it's  fair  for  us  to  listen." 

"Why,  you  goose,  we  have  to!  It's  part  of  our 
game.  We  are  playing  a  game,  and  we  have 
made  them  Indians.  If  they  are  silly  enough  to 
talk  about  their  own  affairs  right  out-of-doors 
like  that,  we  have  a  right  to  hear  what  they  say." 

All  this  was  said  in  a  loud  whisper. 

150 


"'THEY  ARE  INDIANS  PLANNING  TO  SCALP  AND  MASSACRE  us'" 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

"What  was  that?"  asked  Josephine. 

"What?"  said  Florence.  "I  didn't  hear  any- 
thing." 

Josephine  laughed.  "No;  your  thoughts  are 
far  away — around  the  promontory,  I  suppose. 
I  heard  the  queerest  noise.  A  kind  of  a  hissing 
whisper!" 

"Oh,  Jo,  was  it  a  snake?" 

"I  don't  believe  so.  I  don't  mind  snakes,  do 
you?  The  boys  had  one  in  the  house  once — had 
it  living  up  in  their  closet  for  days,  and  no  one 
knew  it.  No,  this  sounded  like  a  person  whis- 
pering." 

"The  breeze  in  the  trees,  perhaps.  Pauline 
has  been  writing  a  poem  about  the  whispering 
trees." 

"Pauline  is  a  dear,"  said  Josephine.  "She  re- 
minds me  something  of  my  sister  Georgiana,  only 
Georgie  is  not  poetical.  Betty  is  a  case,  isn't 
she?" 

At  this  Betty  clutched  Christopher's  arm. 
"Now  they  are  going  to  talk  about  me!"  she 
whispered,  very  low,  lest  this  time  she  might  not 
be  mistaken  for  trees  or  snakes. 

"Yes,  she  certainly  is,"  said  Betty's  sister.  "I 
wonder  where  she  is  now.  Up  to  something,  I 
suppose.  She  has  Chris  with  her,  though,  so 
perhaps  he  will  keep  her  from  doing  anything 
very  dreadful." 

151 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

"Well,  I  never!"  muttered  Betty.     "The  idea!" 

"  I  certainly  heard  something  then !"  exclaimed 
Josephine.  They  listened,  but  there  was  no 
sound  but  the  wood  noises — birds,  insects,  flut- 
tering leaves,  the  fall  of  a  dead  branch,  and  the 
gentle  splashing  of  the  waters  of  the  lake. 

"What  ears  you  have,  Jo!" 

"Or  imagination!  It  seems  to  be  that  more 
than  ears,  as  you  hear  nothing.  What  a  dear 
that  lame  boy  is,  Florence!  Is  he  the  one  who 
was  found  in  a  Home,  or  somewhere,  by  his 
grandfather?" 

"He  was  in  a  Home,  but  General  Keith  didn't 
find  him.  It  was  Mr.  Toppan,  a  farmer  up  here 
in  Maybury.  It  was  only  last  summer,  and  Aunt 
Edith  and  Betty  were  up  here  at  the  Toppans' 
and  heard  all  about  it.  Mrs.  Toppan  wanted  to 
have  a  crippled  child  there  to  take  care  of,  and 
Mr.  Toppan  brought  this  boy  home,  and  they 
got  so  fond  of  him  they  wanted  to  adopt  him, 
and  then  it  was  found  out  that  he  was  really  the 
grandson  of  General  Keith.  Just  think  of  Gen- 
eral Keith  with  all  that  money — millions  and 
millions  they  say  he  has — allowing  his  grandson 
to  be  in  a  Home!" 

Christopher  made  a  sudden  movement.  Betty 
grasped  his  arm  again.  "Be  careful !"  she  breath- 
ed in  his  ear.  "Don't  let  them  know  we  are  here! 
They  would  be  simply  furious." 

152 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

"But  I  suppose  he  didn't  know  it,"  said  Jose- 
phine, "though  it  seems  very  queer  he  shouldn't 
have.  How  did  such  a  thing  happen?" 

"Well,  you  see,  General  Keith  didn't  like  his 
daughter's  marriage.  There  was  really  nothing 
against  Mr.  Lovel,  my  father  says,  except  that  he 
was  very  poor,  was  of  much  plainer  family  than 
the  Keiths,  and  was  not  doing  very  well  in  busi- 
ness. The  Keiths  opposed  it  violently,  which 
only  made  the  daughter  all  the  more  determined 
to  marry  him.  I  should  just  feel  so,  shouldn't 
you,  Jo?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  her  friend,  slowly.  "I 
am  not  sure.  I  think  I  should  think  my  father 
or  uncle  knew  better  than  I  did." 

"But  if  you  loved  him?  Wouldn't  you  think 
you  ought  to  be  true  to  him?" 

"Yes,  I  should  think  that;  but  if  they  asked 
me  to  wait  a  little  while  I  should  think  I  ought 
to  do  that,  because  if  we  were  very  young  they 
would  probably  know  best,  and  if — if  I  cared 
for  him  I  should  trust  him  enough  to  know  we 
wouldn't  change  our  minds  by  waiting.  Do  you 
suppose  General  Keith  asked  them  to  wait?" 

"I  don't  think  so.  He  was  always  a  violent, 
determined  sort  of  man,  papa  says.  He  was  so 
furious  that  the  daughter  walked  out  of  the  house 
and  married  Mr.  Lovel.  Afterward  her  mother 
begged  and  begged  the  General  to  forgive  her, 

153 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

but  he  wouldn't.  Mrs.  Keith  died  of  a  broken 
heart.  Then  the  daughter  died,  and  then  her 
husband,  and  they  were  terribly  poor.  The  Gen- 
eral never  did  anything  for  them,  for  they  were 
proud,  too,  and  wouldn't  ask,  and  I  don't  believe 
he  would  have  done  it  if  they  had  asked,  for  he 
wouldn't  to  please  his  wife.  When  they  were 
both  dead  he  tried  to  find  the  boy,  and  couldn't. 
Chris  was  living  then  with  some  horrible  man 
who  sent  him  out  into  the  streets  to  play  his 
violin.  Then  he  met  with  the  accident  that  made 
him  lame.  Now  his  grandfather  can't  do  enough 
for  him  to  make  up  for  it  all.  They  say  the  Gen- 
eral is  really  a  changed  man.  Oh,  here  are  the 
boys  at  last!" 

Down  the  slope  came  her  brother  and  Brom- 
field  Hale  carrying  a  canoe.  The  girls'  conver- 
sation ceased,  and  before  long  they  were  all 
out  on  the  water.  When  they  were  out  of  sight 
Betty  and  Christopher  emerged  from  their  hiding- 
place. 

"We're  safe,"  said  Betty.  "The  Indians  have 
gone.  Why,  Chris,  what's  the  matter?  How 
queer  you  look!  You  didn't  mind  hearing  that 
story  about  yourself,  did  you?  You  knew  it 
already.  Why,  where  are  you  going?" 

"I'm  going  somewhere — I  don't  know  where." 

"Oh,  Chris,  how  mean!  Why  do  you  mind  SO 
much?  I  shouldn't  if  I  were  you." 

154 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW  YORK 

"Shouldn't  you ?  But,  you  see,  you  never  knew 
my  father." 

"But  where  are  you  going?" 

"Oh,  somewhere  —  I  don't  know  just  where. 
Off  for  a  drive  somewhere."  He  walked  to 
the  carriage-house  and  began  to  unfasten  Sas- 
safras. The  little  horse,  weary  of  waiting, 
tossed  his  head  and  began  to  back  with  great 
agility. 

"Why  don't  you  take  me  for  a  drive?"  asked 
Betty.  "Sassafras  looks  nice  and  frisky  this 
morning.  I'd  love  to  go  to  drive." 

"All  right,"  said  Christopher,  "jump  in." 

He  was  rather  glad  Betty  had  suggested  it.  It 
would  be  something  to  do,  something  to  prevent 
his  return  to  his  grandfather  quite  yet.  He  did 
not  wish  to  see  him  until  he  had  thought  things 
over.  It  seemed  as  though  he  had  lived  a  life- 
time since  he  left  home  that  morning.  Then  he 
was  a  child.  Now  he  felt  the  responsibilities  of 
a  man  without  a  man's  knowledge  of  how  to 
meet  them.  He  had  never  heard  the  story  of  his 
parents  in  just  that  way.  He  must  decide  what 
to  do.  He  wondered  if  Betty  could  help  him  to 
decide. 

They  drove  down  the  hill  at  a  brisk  pace, 
Sassafras  glad  to  be  moving  after  his  long  fight 
with  flies  in  the  Hamiltons'  carriage-house.  Betty 
quite  forgot  to  tell  any  one  that  she  was  going  to 

155 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

drive,  and  no  one  saw  them  start.  It  was  still 
early  in  the  day,  for  the  clocks  were  striking 
eleven  when  they  drove  through  the  village 
and  turned  into  the  road  which  led  to  South 
Maybury. 


FOR  some  time  the  children  were  silent. 
Betty,  in  spite  of  her  heedlessness,  her  im- 
pulsive frankness  of  speech,  her  occasional  dis- 
regard for  the  feelings  of  others,  had  a  kind  little 
heart.  She  knew  from  the  look  on  Christopher's 
face,  when  they  came  out  into  the  open  from  the 
underground  passage,  that  the  words  which  he 
had  overheard  had  made  a  profound  impression 
upon  him,  and  that  impression  had  not  yet  passed 
by.  He  still  wore  that  strange  look  upon  his  face. 
She  glanced  up  at  him  as  he  sat  beside  her  in  the 
runabout.  He  was  on  a  high  seat  and  he  held 
himself  erect,  handling  the  reins  with  the  ease  of 
an  experienced  driver.  He  understood  horses  by 
instinct,  and  it  pleased  his  grandfather  to  believe 
that  he  inherited  the  love  of  them  from  him. 

"Sassafras  is  quite  a  handful,  isn't  he?"  said 
Betty,  at  last.  "He  shies  at  everything  this 
morning." 

There  was  no  answer  from  Chris. 

"I  wish  we  could  have  some  kind  of  an  ad- 
venture, don't  you?" 

157 


MISS    BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

Still  there  was  no  answer.  Betty  began  to 
think  the  silence  had  lasted  long  enough. 

"Oh,  Chris,  do  say  something!  What  is  the 
matter,  anyhow?  I  don't  see  why  you  are  quite 
so  dreadfully  cut  up.  You  knew  it  all  before." 

"No,  I  didn't  know  he  hadn't  tried  to  find  us. 
I  can't  believe  it  now,  Betty.  I  don't  want  to 
believe  it." 

"Then  why  do  you?  Why  don't  you  just  say, 
'It  isn't  true,'  and  not  bother  about  it  any  more?" 

"But  suppose  it  is  true?  If  it  is  true  I  want 
to  know  it." 

"I  shouldn't,  not  if  it  is  so  disagreeable.  When 
a  true  thing  isn't  pleasant  I  would  rather  not 
know  it.  What's  the  use?  You  can't  do  any- 
thing about  it  now." 

"Yes,  I  can.  Only  I  don't  know  just  what. 
And  I  don't  feel  that  way.  I  can't  believe  grand- 
father was  unkind  to  my  father,  and  I  am  not 
going  to  believe  it  until  I  know  it  was  really  so; 
but  if  it  was  so  I  want  to  know  it,  because —  Oh, 
Betty,  I  can't  explain  exactly,  but  I  mean  I 
would  rather  know  things  just  as  they  truly  are, 
and  not  think  they  are  different  from  what  they 
are.  I  didn't  use  to  feel  so.  Only  last  summer, 
you  know,  I  pretended  I  was  Uncle  Dan  Top- 
pan's  real  nephew,  and  made  grandfather  think  I 
was.  Don't  you  remember?" 

"Of  course  I  do." 

158 


MISS    BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

"Well,  after  that  I  never  wanted  to  be  anything 
that  wasn't  true  again." 

"You  don't  have  to  be  now.  You  are  your 
grandfather's  true  grandson." 

"I  know,  but  then  I —      He  paused. 

"What  were  you  going  to  say?  I  do  hate  to 
have  people  stop  just  as  they  are  going  to  say 
the  most  interesting  thing  of  all." 

"I  was  just  going  to  say  that  I'm  father's  son, 
too,  and  if  grandfather  wasn't  kind  to  father — • 
Oh,  I  don't  know!  I'm  all  mixed  up  about  it. 
What  would  you  do,  Betty?" 

"I  wouldn't  do  anything,  I  tell  you!  I'd  just 
let  things  go.  Chris,  are  you  really  going  all  the 
way  to  South  May  bury?" 

"Do  you  want  to?  We  may  as  well.  Sassa- 
fras is  going  along  so  fast  it  won't  take  us  long." 

"Oh,  do  let's  go!  It  will  be  fun  when  we  get 
there.  I  love  to  go  to  South  Maybury  and  drive 
up  to  the  shops,  and  go  skipping  on  and  off  the 
car  tracks.  Do  you  suppose  Sassafras  will  mind 
the  trolley-cars?  Here  comes  an  automobile.  Oh, 
Chris!" 

She  found  it  necessary  to  grasp  the  side  of  the 
carriage  and  hold  on  tight.  Sassafras  was  cer- 
tainly in  a  gay  mood  that  morning.  Further  con- 
versation was  impossible  for  some  time,  but  at 
last  Christopher  had  brought  him  down  to  a  trot ; 
and  as  there  was  nothing  more  to  disturb  him 

«  150 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

at  present  on  the  country  road,  he  went  quietly 
enough,  although  he  insisted  upon  passing  every 
vehicle  that  he  saw  ahead  of  him. 

"This  is  the  first  time  Sassafras  has  ever  gone 
to  South  Maybury,"  said  Chris,  "and  it's  the  first 
time  I  have  ever  driven  him  without  grandfather 
or  Ben." 

They  were  approaching  the  town  now.  The 
houses  along  the  road  were  closer  together ;  there 
were  one  or  two  persons  walking.  Presently  they 
reached  a  corner  where  the  car  tracks  turned  into 
the  road  they  were  on,  and  it  became  the  main 
street  of  the  little  town.  Vehicles  were  more 
numerous  now,  and  here  and  there  was  a  shop. 
In  a  few  minutes  they  were  driving  over  a  paved 
street. 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  now  we  are  here?" 
asked  Christopher. 

Betty  did  not  reply  at  once.  She  was  gazing 
intently  at  the  people  on  the  street.  There  were 
many  more  than  she  had  ever  before  seen  to- 
gether in  South  Maybury.  They  were  all  mov- 
ing in  one  direction. 

"There  is  something  going  on,"  said  she. 
"Chris!  It  is!  It  is!  See!  Look  at  the  crowds 
waiting  on  that  corner!  It  is  coming  along 
there!" 

"What  is  coming ?    What  do  you  mean,  Betty ? 

"Oh,   you  stupid!    Don't  you  know?    Why, 

160 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

the  circus,  of  course.  I  had  forgotten  all  about 
it.  Charles  is  crazy  to  come.  You  know,  the 
signs  have  been  all  over  everywhere,  but  I  thought 
it  was  coming  next  week.  We'll  see  the  proces- 
sion! Oh,  won't  Charles  be  wild  when  he  hears 
we've  been  here!  Let's  go  to  it,  Chris!  Have 
you  got  any  money?  I  haven't  got  a  cent.  How 
much  do  you  suppose  it  is?  I  do  hope  you  have 
some,  for  it  would  be  perfectly  maddening  to  be 
right  here  at  the  very  doors  of  the  circus  and  not 
see  it." 

Christopher  investigated  his  pockets,  transfer- 
ring the  reins  from  one  hand  to  another  in  order 
to  do  so.  He  had  just  discovered  fifty  cents  in 
one  pocket,  and  was  in  the  act  of  drawing  up  a 
quarter  of  a  dollar  from  the  depths  of  another, 
when  Sassafras  took  the  opportunity  to  stand  on 
his  hind  legs.  He  objected  to  the  close  proximity 
of  a  hurdy-gurdy  which  was  grinding  out  the 
strains  of  a  gay  march  right  under  his  nose.  Of 
course,  any  horse  of  proper  spirit  would  stand  on 
his  hind  legs.  For  a  few  minutes  circus  money 
was  forgotten,  while  Sassafras's  young  master  de- 
voted himself  to  placing  the  horse  on  four  legs 
again. 

"We  shall  have  to  put  him  somewhere,"  said 
Chris.  "He  would  cut  up  dreadfully  if  we  had 
him  here  when  the  procession  comes  along.  Let's 
take  him  to  a  stable.  There  is  one  in  the  next 

161 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

street  where  they  know  grandfather.  I  have 
been  there  with  him,  so  I  could  have  it  charged, 
and  save  all  the  money  for  the  circus." 

This  seemed  an  excellent  plan,  so  they  turned 
the  corner  and  drove  to  the  stable.  It  did  not 
take  long  to  arrange  for  the  care  of  Sassafras ;  and 
in  a  few  minutes  the  children,  on  foot,  had  joined 
the  crowd  in  the  street,  which,  with  one  accord, 
was  moving  toward  Market  Street,  along  which 
the  procession  was  to  come.  Christopher  had 
collected  his  possessions,  and  found  that  they 
amounted  to  the  proud  sum  of  one  dollar  and 
thirty-nine  cents:  quite  enough  for  both  to  enter 
the  gates  at  twenty-five  cents  each,  and  to  admit 
them  to  several  side-shows  and  buy  a  sufficient 
amount  of  pop-corn,  peanuts,  and,  perhaps,  lemon- 
ade. Troubles  and  family  differences,  cares  and 
home  duties — all  were  forgotten.  Who  could  pos- 
sibly remember  that  there  is  any  one  else  in  the 
world  besides  one's  self  and  one's  boon  com- 
panion when  a  circus  is  in  progress?  Certainly 
neither  Christopher  nor  Betty.  And  with  eager 
faces  and  light  hearts  they  stood  upon  the  high 
steps  of  the  town  hall,  which  fronted  on  Market 
Street,  and  from  this  point  of  vantage  watched 
that  most  fascinating  of  sights  to  him  or  her  whose 
heart  has  not  grown  old — the  circus  parade. 

It  was  only  a  little  circus,  comparatively  speak- 
ing. There  was  a  mere  handful  of  elephants  (if 

1G2 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

elephants  may  be  counted  by  handfuls),  half  a 
dozen  cages  with  small  "wild  beasts,"  some  love- 
ly ladies  on  weary  horses  which  had  served  their 
term  as  teamsters,  no  doubt,  and  were  round- 
ing out  an  industrious  existence  clothed  in  gay 
trappings  and  bearing  the  sylph-like  forms  of  the 
"Queen  of  Beauty"  and  the  "Lady  Geraldine." 
There  was  a  snake-charmer  and  a  lion-tamer, 
each  with  his  chosen  pet,  and  best  of  all,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  admiring  public,  there  was  the  clown 
in  red -and -white  stripes  and  a  face  of  chalk. 
Betty  clutched  Chris  when  the  clown  came  in 
sight. 

"Charles  would  give  his  eyes  to  be  here!"  she 
whispered.  "He  adores  clowns." 

It  was  the  only  thought  that  either  of  them 
gave  to  the  families  at  home.  When  the  last 
object  of  their  admiration  had  been  trundled  by 
— it  was  the  fat  lady,  drawn  by  six  white  horses 
— they  hurried  down  the  steps  and  followed  the 
procession.  It  was  not  far  to  the  grounds,  where 
great  white  tents  had  received  the  parading  treas- 
ures; and  Christopher  having  produced  his  half- 
dollar,  the  two  were  admitted  to  the  sacred 
precincts.  And  from  that  moment  time  was  for- 
gotten, for  there  is  no  time  to  think  of  tune  when 
one  is  absolutely  and  entirely  happy.  And  how 
can  one  avoid  being  absolutely  and  entirely  hap- 
py when  the  smell  of  the  sawdust  has  penetrated 

163 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

the  nostrils,  the  sound  of  music  is  falling  upon 
the  ears,  the  taste  of  peanuts  is  upon  the  tongue, 
the  sight  of  the  funniest,  the  most  versatile  clown 
who  ever  turned  a  somersault  is  rejoicing  the 
eyes,  and  one  is  accompanied  by  the  most  con- 
genial of  companions  who  echoes  one's  dearest 
wish  almost  before  it  has  been  expressed? 

The  "  Fat  Lady "  had  been  called  upon,  the 
moving  pictures  representing  "A  Lost  Child" 
had  been  watched  with  breathless  attention,  the 
"Thin  Gentleman  Whose  Only  Food  is  Tacks" 
had  been  closely  scanned  with  audible  doubts  as 
to  the  genuineness  of  his  nourishment,  the  "Trav- 
eller from  the  Antipodes  with  His  Linguistic 
Chimpanzee"  had  been  questioned  as  to  his 
travels,  and  the  children  had  paused  to  count 
their  money  in  order  to  find  out  how  many  more 
pleasures  were  still  at  their  command,  when  Betty, 
watching  the  crowd  while  Chris  did  the  counting, 
gave  a  sudden  and  delighted  exclamation. 

"Why,  Chris,"  she  cried,  in  a  high,  piercing 
voice,  "if  there  isn't  somebody  we  know!  It  is 
George  Smith!  How  did  he  ever  get  here? 
Hollo,  George!"  She  raised  her  voice  still  high- 
er, for  George  was  separated  from  them  by  a 
number  of  persons  and  appeared  to  be  slightly 
deaf.  Betty  had  no  idea,  however,  of  allowing 
him  to  escape;  in  fact,  it  did  not  occur  either 
to  her  or  to  Chris  that  he  was  not  eager  to  be 

164 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

recognized.  They  elbowed  their  way  through 
the  crowd,  and  reached  his  side  just  as  he  was 
about  to  enter  the  tent  of  "Fascinating  Fer- 
nando Who  Refuses  to  be  Fastened." 

"Hollo,  George!"  they  both  exclaimed  together, 
and  there  was  nothing  for  George  to  do  but  re- 
turn their  friendly  greeting. 

"When  did  you  come?"  asked  Chris.  "Are 
you  staying  at  May  bury?" 

"I'm  going  over  there  soon,"  said  George. 
"You  needn't  let  on  you  seen  me.  I'm  here 
looking  for  a  job." 

"Have  you  given  up  being  a  railroad  man?" 
asked  Chris. 

"Well,  I'm  thinking  of  giving  it  up.  It  don't 
pay  very  well.  I  was  only  on  for  a  time,  anyhow. 
I  was  doin'  it  for  another  feller,  and  he's  back. 
He  was  sick  at  the  hospital — got  his  foot  hurt  fall- 
in'  off  a  train.  When  he  got  well  he  come  back 
and  took  his  job  again.  I'm  goin'  home  for  a  lit- 
tle while,  but  I  just  stopped  over  here  to  see 
the  circus.  I  say,  have  you  seen  all  the  shows? 
It's  an  awful  smart  feller  in  here,  they  say.  He 
can  untie  any  knot  you  put  on  to  him,  and  hand- 
cuffs and  chains  and  everything.  He  slips  right 
out  of  'em  as  slick  as  anything.  He's  a  regular 
Houdini.  Come  along  in!" 

So  the  three  entered  the  tent  of  the  "  Fascinat- 
ing Fernando." 

165 


MISS    BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

There  was  no  doubt  about  his  fascination.  His 
charm  was  increased  by  the  fact  that  the  by- 
standers could  help  to  tie  him  up;  indeed,  their 
efforts  were  part  of  the  performance.  Each  one 
lent  a  hand  and  gave  an  extra  twist  to  the  rope 
which  was  used  to  bind  him,  and  both  Chris  and 
Betty  assisted  in  the  process.  So  wonderful  were 
his  antics,  his  writhings,  his  suppleness,  that  for 
a  time  they  forgot  to  look  at  his  face.  When 
Betty  did  glance  at  it  she  looked  again.  He  had 
very  long  and  thick  flaxen  hair,  which  to  the 
more  sophisticated  would  have  suggested  a  wig. 
His  color  was  so  high  and  so  steady  that  there 
was  no  doubt  in  Betty's  mind  of  its  being  sup- 
plied artificially,  and  he  wore  a  magnificent 
blond  mustache  which  neatly  matched  his  hair. 
She  had  never  seen  such  hair  before,  but  his  eyes 
and  his  ears  were  strangely  familiar  to  her.  Where 
had  she  met,  or  tried  to  meet,  those  restless,  shifty 
eyes,  and  where  had  she  seen  those  enormous  ears 
which  stuck  out  so  far  from  the  head?  She  stood 
staring  at  him,  forgetting  to  watch  his  actions, 
and  with  so  steady  a  gaze  that  she  attracted  his 
glance  in  return.  In  an  instant  the  "  Fascinating 
Fernando"  wheeled  about  and  presented  a  new 
variety  of  performance.  In  a  high  falsetto  voice 
he  requested  the  audience  to  tie  his  hands  behind 
him  and  to  fasten  one  foot  to  his  hands.  This 
was  done  by  George  Smith,  who  had  proved  to  be 

166 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW  YORK 

particularly  clever  at  the  work  of  tying.  The 
"  Fascinating  Fernando "  wriggled  out  of  the 
knots,  and  then  with  a  low  bow  disappeared  be- 
hind a  curtain. 

"Oh,  it's  over !"  sighed  Chris.  " I  liked  it  about 
as  well  as  anything.  I  suppose  it's  dinner-time 
and  he's  gone  behind  there  to  get  some.  I'm 
awfully  hungry,  aren't  you,  Betty?  I  forgot  all 
about  dinner.  I  suppose  we  ought  to  be  going 
back  to  Maybury  Centre." 

They  were  standing  close  to  the  curtain  behind 
which  the  "  Fascinator  "  had  vanished. 

"Oh,  dear!"  exclaimed  Betty.  "Well,  I  sup- 
pose we  ought.  General  Keith  won't  like  it  if 
you  are  very  late,  Chris.  Are  you  going  over 
there  to-day,  George?" 

"Not  to-day.  I'm  lookin'  for  a  job  here.  And 
mind  you,  don't  let  on  you  seen  me." 

They  moved  slowly  away.  They  did  not  look 
back,  and  so  they  were  not  aware  of  being 
watched.  The  "  Fascinating  Fernando "  came 
out  from  behind  his  curtain,  at  first  cautiously, 
and  then  with  more  boldness.  He  saw  the  part- 
ing at  his  tent  door.  George  Smith  walked  away 
in  one  direction,  Chris  and  Betty  moved  quickly 
toward  an  exit  gate.  The  "  Fascinator"  followed 
Smith.  He  overtook  him  as  he  reached  another 
side-show  and  engaged  him  in  conversation,  pres- 
ently inviting  him  to  see  the  show  at  his,  the 

167 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

"  Fascinator's,"  expense.  It  was  a  pleasant  sur- 
prise to  George  to  receive  such  an  invitation,  and 
he  did  not  hesitate  an  instant  in  accepting  it. 

Betty  and  Chris,  with  slow  and  lingering  foot- 
steps, moved  away  from  the  great  white  tents 
which  covered  so  much  that  was  wonderful. 
They  walked  to  the  stable,  and  presently  they 
were  driving  homeward  at  a  brisk  pace,  very 
hungry,  very  tired,  and  with  time  now  to  wonder 
how  their  absence  would  be  regarded  by  the 
authorities.  When  they  drove  up  the  steep 
ascent  of  Pringle  Farm  they  found  General  Keith 
awaiting  them  upon  the  piazza.  He  assisted 
Betty  to  alight  with  the  utmost  politeness.  He 
bade  Mrs.  Hamilton  good-bye  in  the  same  stately 
manner,  and  stepped  into  the  runabout.  Chris- 
topher drove  away  without  a  word,  but  he  glanced 
at  Betty.  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  taken  her  hand 
and  was  leading  her  into  the  house.  She  looked 
very  solemn,  and  so  did  Betty.  It  was  some 
time  before  General  Keith  spoke.  When  he  did 
it  was  with  a  constrained  voice. 

"I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  alive,"  said  he. 
"Will  you  kindly  give  an  account  of  yourself? 
As  I  expected,  Miss  Betty  was  with  you.  I  find 
it  difficult  to  forgive  her." 

"It  wasn't  Betty's  fault.  I  asked  her  to  go. 
There  was  no  harm  in  our  going.  I'm  twelve 
years  old." 

168 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

The  General  turned  and  looked  at  him.  In  his 
astonishment  he  forgot  to  be  angry.  At  last  he 
found  his  voice. 

"You  may  be  twelve  years  old,  but  you  are 
still  my  grandson.  I  expect  you  to  go  nowhere 
without  my  permission.  Where  have  you  been?" 

"To  the  circus."  There  was  a  moment's  si- 
lence. The  joys  of  the  morning  had  not  yet  lost 
their  charm.  The  troubles  of  the  morning  had 
not  yet  reasserted  themselves.  "It  was  splendid! 
Oh,  grand,  don't  you  love  the  circus?  Even  if 
you  don't  now,  didn't  you  when  you  were  only 
twelve?" 

"I  think  perhaps  I  did.  I — I  hardly  remem- 
ber. Tell  me  all  about  it,  Christopher." 

And  he  forgot  for  the  time  his  displeasure,  and 
Christopher  his  cares.  It  was  not  until  they  were 
at  home  again,  and  the  delayed  luncheon  had  been 
eaten  and  Christopher  was  alone,  while  his  grand- 
father took  his  afternoon  nap,  that  he  began  again 
to  think  over  all  that  he  had  heard  that  morning 
when  he  and  Betty  were  hidden  in  the  under- 
ground passage. 


XI 


ONE  afternoon  a  few  days  later  than  that 
upon  which  Betty  and  Christopher  played 
Indians  and  went  to  the  circus,  Rachel  Amy  Mar- 
tin walked  up  to  Pringle  Farm.  Her  mother  had 
sent  her  upon  an  errand  which  was  to  her  of  the 
greatest  importance,  and  Rachel  Amy  had  re- 
ceived careful  directions  as  to  the  manner  of 
doing  it. 

"Ring  the  door-bell  no  matter  who  you  see  out- 
side, and  give  the  envelope  to  the  person  who 
opens  the  door,"  said  Mrs.  Martin.  "Don't  you 
think  you  can  get  out  of  it  by  givin'  it  to  any  of 
the  young  folks.  They'll  only  lose  it  before  Mrs. 
Hamilton  hears  a  word  about  it.  If  I  give  a  four- 
o'clock  I  want  that  the  invites  should  get  to  the 
right  folks.  Some  I'll  send  by  mail,  like  the  one 
to  Mrs.  Davis  over  to  West  Newbury,  and  some 
others  like  that.  The  Toppans  have  got  to  be 
asked,  I  suppose,  though  I  hate  to  do  it  real  bad, 
seein'  they're  so  thick  with  that  Miss  Lucetta 
Smith ;  but  the  Toppans  have  got  a  kind  o'  posi- 
tion here,  and  I  don't  feel  as  though  I'd  better 

170 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

leave  'em  out.  I'll  send  the  invite  to  them  by 
Mr.  Tarleton.  You  can  leave  these  others  on 
your  way  to  Pringle  Farm,  Rachel  Amy,  and  mind 
you  do  it  right  and  don't  be  makin'  any  mistakes." 

So  Rachel  Amy  departed  with  a  number  of 
notes  which  by  the  time  she  reached  Pringle 
Farm  had  all  been  disposed  of  at  various  houses 
along  the  way,  with  the  exception  of  the  one  ad- 
dressed in  her  mother's  stiff,  cramped  handwrit- 
ing to  "Mrs.  Hamilton  and  family."  It  con- 
tained a  card  upon  which  was  her  mother's  name, 
"Mrs.  Eliza  Martin,"  done  in  South  Maybury  by 
a  professional,  with  heavy  shadings  on  the  down- 
ward slope  of  the  letters  in  true  Spencerian  style. 
At  the  lower  left-hand  corner  was  written,  "Four- 
o'clock,"  in  quotation  marks,  and  beneath  that 
the  date,  and  "R.  S.  V.  P."  These  cards  of  invita- 
tion had  cost  Mrs.  Martin  much  time  and  thought, 
and  were  the  result  of  detailed  consultation  with 
the  man  in  South  Maybury  who  wrote  what  he 
designated  as  "calling  cards,"  and  of  prolonged 
study  of  the  columns  of  certain  magazines  which 
impart  advice  about  social  affairs. 

Obeying  her  mother's  instructions,  Rachel  Amy 
marched  straight  to  the  front  door,  although 
Pauline  and  Betty  were  near  at  hand  under  the 
trees,  and  Florence  and  her  friends  were  on  the 
piazza.  She  rang  the  bell,  apparently  uncon- 
scious of  the  fact  that  Pauline  was  approaching. 

171 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

"Hollo,  Rachel,"  said  Pauline,  who,  having 
discovered  that  it  was  a  trial  to  Rachel  Amy  to 
bear  two  names,  had  immediately  begun  to  call 
her  by  but  one,  "I'm  glad  to  see  you.  Have  you 
a  note  for  mamma?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  girl.  "No,  don't  take  it, 
Pauline.  I've  got  to  give  it  to  the  hired  help. 
Mother  said  on  no  account  to  give  it  to  any  of 
you  girls.  It's  an  invitation  to  a  four-o'clock, 
and  I've  got  to  be  very  particular." 

"I'm  afraid  you  will  wait  there  until  night, 
then,"  said  Pauline,  laughing  good-naturedly. 
"The  maids  have  all  been  allowed  to  go  off  on  a 
picnic,  and  they  won't  get  home  till  supper-time. 
Unless  you  insist  upon  mamma's  coming  down 
to  take  it  herself,  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  give 
it  to  me.  I  will  take  it  right  up  to  her  so  you 
will  know  it  is  all  safe." 

"Perhaps  she  could  give  me  an  answer  to 
take  back,  and  then  mother  'd  be  satisfied,"  said 
Rachel  Amy.  "Mother  says  she  knows  it  isn't 
customary  to  put  R.  S.  V.  P.  on  four-o'clock  cards 
— that  means  '  answer  if  you  please  ' — though  I 
can't  see  why,  for  the  letters  don't  stand  for  those 
words;  but  she's  got  to  know  how  many  is  com- 
ing on  account  of  the  maple  syrup.  There,  I 
wasn't  to  mention  maple  syrup,  so  please  don't 
say  anything  about  it,  Pauline." 

"No,   I  won't.    Just  go  sit  down  under  the 

172 


trees  with  Betty,  and  I'll  come  back  again  as 
soon  as  I  can." 

But  Betty  had  disappeared,  so  Rachel  Amy 
waited  there  alone  until  Pauline  returned.  She 
could  not  help  looking  shyly  now  and  then  at  the 
girls  and  young  men  on  the  porch.  They  seemed 
to  be  having  such  a  good  time,  to  judge  by  the 
amount  of  laughing  and  talking  that  they  were 
doing.  Everything  that  was  said  appeared  to  be 
of  the  most  amusing  nature.  Rachel  Amy's  life 
thus  far  had  not  known  much  laughter.  She  was 
of  a  serious  temperament,  but  she  was  young. 
She  would  have  liked  "a  good  time,"  too.  But 
how  could  a  girl  have  that  who  lived  in  a  house 
that  was  literally  as  well  as  metaphorically  "di- 
vided against  itself"?  She  did  not  put  this  ques- 
tion into  precisely  those  words  as  she  sat  watch- 
ing the  others,  half  in  interest,  half  in  envy,  but 
she  thought  of  her  mother's  peculiar  disposition, 
and  of  her  dear  aunt  Lucetta  on  the  other  side  of 
the  wire  netting.  She  would  have  been  glad,  too, 
to  be  friends  with  her  cousins  the  Smiths.  They 
might  all  have  been  young  together.  Rachel  Amy 
longed  for  somebody  in  the  house  who  was  young. 
But  now  she  had  a  friend  of  her  own  age  in  Pau- 
line. Chris  was  her  friend,  too,  to  be  sure,  but 
he  was  younger  and  only  a  boy.  She  turned  and 
smiled  happily  at  Pauline  as  she  came  to  her  over 
the  grass. 

173 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

"Here  is  the  answer,"  Pauline  called  out. 
"Mamma  and  two  of  us  will  be  very  glad  to  come." 

"Only  two  of  you?  Dear  me,  I'm  afraid  mother 
won't  like  it  unless  you  all  come." 

"Why,  it  would  make  a  great  many!  Papa 
and  my  brothers  are  so  busy  doing  things  when 
they  are  up  here  that  mamma  thought  it  better 
to  decline  for  them.  Papa  is  not  here  now,  and 
he  may  not  be  back  in  tune  for  it,  and  Florence 
is  going  away  to  make  some  visits,  so  there  would 
not  be  anybody  but  Betty  and  me  to  go  with 
mamma,  anyway." 

"All  right,  I'll  tell  mother  that,  and  then  she'll 
feel  better  satisfied.  Pauline,  I  just  love  that 
book  you  lent  me.  It's  splendid.  I  haven't  quite 
finished  it,  so  I  couldn't  bring  it  back  to-day." 

"Oh,  there's  no  hurry  about  bringing  it  back. 
How  far  have  you  gone?" 

They  fell  into  an  animated  discussion  of  the 
book  and  of  other  things  of  equal  interest  to  them 
both.  The  afternoon  passed  rapidly  away.  The 
shadows  lengthened  on  the  grass.  The  young 
people  left  the  piazza  and  went  off  for  a  drive, 
the  boys  harnessing  the  horses  themselves,  as  the 
stable-men  had  gone  to  the  picnic.  Betty  had 
vanished  on  some  private  enterprise  of  her  own, 
and  no  one  interrupted  the  two  girls  under  the 
trees. 

It  was  nearly  six  o'clock  when  a  little  girl  came 

174 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

hurriedly  up  the  hill.  She  had  evidently  been 
running,  for  her  face  was  flushed  and  she  breathed 
quickly.  She  came  straight  to  the  bench  where 
Pauline  and  Rachel  Amy  were  sitting.  Betty 
and  Brownie  came  out  of  the  house  as  she  ap- 
proached, and  reached  the  bench  at  the  same 
time  that  she  did.  "Hollo,  Lucy!"  said  Betty. 
"Come  along  with  me.  We'll  go  out  to  the 
barn." 

It  was  Lucy  Smith,  and  Betty  thought  this  a 
most  tactful  way  of  separating  the  two  cousins, 
who  were  not  allowed  to  be  on  speaking  terms. 

Lucy  scarcely  heeded  her.  She  had  lost  her 
quiet  little  manner,  her  demure  way  of  walking 
and  speaking.  She  called  out,  excitedly,  to  her 
cousin: 

"Rachel  Amy,  you'd  better  come  right  home! 
Aunt  Lucetta  sent  me  to  tell  you.  Your  mother's 
sick — at  least  she  was  groaning,  and  we  thought 
she  was  sick." 

Rachel  Amy  started  to  her  feet.  "Has  Aunt 
Lucetta  gone  in  there?" 

"Yes,  she  went  in,  and  your  mother  was  real 
nice  to  her — I  guess  she  thought  maybe  she  was 
going  to  die.  Aunt  Lucetta  says  she's  better 
now,  but  she  thought  you  ought  to  come  home. 
We  knew  you  was  here  with  the  invitations  for 
the  four-o'clock.  We  heard  your  mother  telling 
you." 

ia  175 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

"I  oughtn't  to  have  stayed  so  long!"  exclaimed 
her  cousin.  "Oh,  if  mother  has  only  made  up 
with  Aunt  Lucetta!"  And  she  ran  down  the  hill 
without  stopping  to  say  good-bye. 

"Do  you  think  she  really  has?"  asked  Betty. 

"I  don't  know/-  replied  Lucy,  calmly.  "We 
think  she's  going  to  get  married,  and  she  wants 
to  leave  Rachel  Amy  with  us.  She  told  Aunt 
Lucetta  to-day  she  might  buy  her  half  of  the 
house.  She'd  like  to  sell  her  share  to  Aunt 
Lucetta,  and  she  said  something  about  leaving 
Rachel  Amy  here  if  she  went  to  live  somewhere 
else.  And  we  heard  Mr.  Tarleton  talking  in  there, 
and  saying  he  was  going  into  business  over  to 
Kingford.  We  hear  most  everything  through 
the  wire  netting.  To-day  we  heard  her  groaning. 
We  thought  it  was  just  her  way,  but  the  groans 
got  so  awful  that  Aunt  Lucetta  got  scared.  She 
just  couldn't  stand  it,  she  was  so  afraid  Mrs. 
Martin  might  be  real  sick,  after  all,  this  time. 
You  know  Mrs.  Martin  is  my  aunt  Lucetta's 
sister,  so  of  course  she  feels  worried  when  she 
thinks  she's  real  sick." 

"I  shouldn't  be,"  said  Betty.  "I  should  just 
hate  her,  and  be  glad  to  hear  her  groaning." 

' '  Why,  Betty !' '  remonstrated  Pauline.  ' '  She's 
her  own  sister!" 

"I  don't  care  if  she  is.  She's  a  hateful  person, 
and  deserves  to  groan.  If  you  behaved  like  that, 

176 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

Paul,  I  should  hate  you."  Then  suddenly  Betty 
began  to  laugh. 

"Betty,  how  can  you  laugh  like  that?"  asked 
Pauline,  gravely.  She  would  not  for  the  world 
hurt  Lucy's  feelings,  and  the  conversation  had 
become  very  personal. 

"I  can't  help  it.  Only  think  how  funny  it 
would  be,"  said  Betty,  as  soon  as  she  could  speak, 
"for  you  and  me  to  live  with  a  wire  netting  be- 
tween us!  Suppose  we  had  one  in  our  house,  and 
half  the  family  lived  on  one  side  and  half  on  the 
other!  We're  an  uneven  number  of  children, 
so  one  of  us  would  have  to  take  turns.  I  speak 
to  be  the  one.  It  would  give  me  such  a  nice 
change  of  relations." 

"Betty,  you're  too  bad!"  said  Pauline,  trying 
not  to  laugh  on  Lucy's  account.  But  Lucy  was 
not  offended. 

"I  don't  mind,"  said  she.  "It's  all  Mrs.  Mar- 
tin's doings,  and  we  think  she's  crazy — Aunt 
Lucetta  and  I  do.  Aunt  Lucetta  minds  it,  and 
wishes  she  could  be  friends  again  and  all  live  to- 
gether, but  I  don't.  Mrs.  Martin  wasn't  nice  to 
us  and  neither  was  Rachel  Amy.  I'm  glad  there 
is  a  wire  netting." 

"I  should  think  you  would  be.  Don't  you 
think  Rachel  Amy  is  rather  stuck-up?"  It  was 
Betty  who  asked  this  question. 

"I  don't  think  she  is,"  said  Pauline,  "and  I've 

177 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

gotten  to  know  her  quite  well.  Maybe  she  used 
to  be,  but  I  think  now  she's  different." 

"She's  always  been  very  stuck-up  with  me," 
said  Lucy. 

"There!"  exclaimed  Betty. 

"Well,  you  see  if  I  am  not  right,"  said  Pauline. 
"I  think  she  has  been  with  you,  Lucy,  because 
her  mother  makes  her,  and  with  Betty  because 
Betty  has  never  liked  her,  and  people  always 
know  when  other  people  don't  like  them;  but  I 
think  Rachel  Amy  down  underneath  isn't  one  bit 
proud  or  stuck-up,  and  you  will  both  find  it  out 
some  day  and  like  her." 

"Oh,  that's  just  like  you,  Paul,"  said  her 
sister.  "You  always  take  the  side  of  the  down- 
trodden, and  stand  up  for  unpopular  people.  It's 
just  the  way  it  always  is  in  school,  Lucy.  If 
Pauline  thinks  a  girl  is  neglected  or  isn't  liked, 
and  the  other  girls  don't  notice  her  enough,  Paul 
always  goes  and  gets  intimate  with  her  and  helps 
her  out  of  her  troubles." 

"  I  should  think  everybody  would  love  Pauline," 
said  Lucy. 

"They  do!"  cried  Betty,  throwing  her  arms 
around  her  sister's  neck  and  kissing  her.  "She's 
a  darling,  dear." 

"Betty,  you  goose!"  said  Pauline.  "You  ex- 
aggerate awfully.  Don't  believe  her,  Lucy." 

"I  do  believe  her,"  said  Lucy,  standing  directly 

178 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

in  front  of  the  sisters.  "  I  almost  wish  you  were 
my  friend  instead  of  Rachel  Amy's,  but  that's  a 
mean  wish,  because  I  have  Aunt  Lucetta  and  my 
brother  George,  but  Rachel  Amy  only  has  her 
mother." 

"I  can  be  friends  with  you  both,"  said  Pauline. 

"No,  you  couldn't  be  that.  You  see,  we  are 
not  allowed  to  share  things.  Even  though  we 
own  the  same  aunt  we're  not  allowed  to  share  her. 
Of  course,  we  couldn't  have  the  same  friend." 

"I  think  it  is  perfectly  outrageous!"  exclaimed 
Betty.  "That  horrid  wire  netting  comes  poking 
in  between  you  and  everything;  but  I'm  glad 
you've  got  that  nice  Miss  Lucetta  on  your  side 
of  it,  Lucy." 

The  house  with  the  wire  netting  was  not  the 
only  house  in  Maybury  Centre  where  trouble  was 
to  be  found.  At  Keith  Hall  the  master  was  un- 
happy, in  spite  of  all  the  luxury  and  beauty  with 
which  he  was  surrounded,  and  in  spite,  too,  of  the 
fact  that  he  had  with  him  the  grandson  whom  he 
loved  so  devotedly.  It  was  owing  to  this  grand- 
son that  General  Keith  was  anxious.  He  did 
not  know  what  had  come  over  the  boy  during 
these  last  few  days.  Christopher  had  suddenly 
become  moody  and  silent.  The  childish  face  had 
grown  older.  The  look  of  sunny  happiness  had 
left  it.  The  boy  seemed  careworn.  He  did  not 
respond  in  any  way  to  his  grandfather,  nor  did 

179 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

he  make  any  affectionate  demonstration  to  the  old 
man,  as  it  was  his  real  nature  to  do.  He  would 
sit  silently  brooding  over  something  for  an  hour 
at  a  time.  What  it  was  the  General  could  not 
imagine.  He  decided,  therefore,  that  the  boy 
was  ill,  and  he  anxiously  requested  the  house- 
keeper to  feel  his  pulse,  and  he  watched  his  ap- 
petite with  a  close  attention  that  was  pathetic. 

"I  believe  I  will  send  for  the  doctor,"  said  he, 
suddenly,  at  dinner  one  night.  "You  are  not 
eating  anything,  Christopher,  and  you  have  al- 
ways liked  broiled  chicken.  This  is  your  favorite 
kind  of  ice-cream,  too.  You  are  ill.  Have  you 
ever  had  measles? — or  chicken-pox?  And  what 
are  the  other  things  children  have?  You  are 
going  to  have  one  of  them,  I  have  no  doubt.  We 
will  try  and  get  the  doctor  here  to-night.  There 
is  a  very  good  man  at  West  May  bury." 

"I'm  not  sick.  I  don't  need  the  doctor,"  said 
Christopher. 

"Then  what  is  it?"  asked  the  General,  getting 
up  from  the  table  and  walking  to  and  fro.  "  Some- 
thing is  the  matter.  Can  you  look  me  in  the  face 
and  say  nothing  is  the  matter?"  He  paused  by 
Christopher's  chair,  and  placing  his  hand  under 
the  boy's  chin,  he  turned  up  the  face  and  scanned 
it  eagerly,  tenderly,  with  a  long,  searching  look. 

Christopher  gazed  back  at  him,  the  boy's  blue 
eyes  staring  unflinchingly  into  those  of  the  man. 

180 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

The  General's  eyes  had  once  been  dark  and  bright 
and  keen  as  an  eagle's.  They  were  keen  now, 
but  they  were  faded.  He  was  growing  old. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  boy  ?    Can't  you  tell  me. " 

"No,  grandfather,  I  don't  believe  I  can." 

"There  is  something  on  your  mind,  isn't  there? 
You  are  worried  about  something." 

"Yes,  grandfather." 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  He  was  walking  up  and 
down  again  now.  "Can't  you  tell  me?  Is  it 
money?  Do  you  want  some  more  money?" 

"Oh  no!" 

"Is  it — is  it  the  matter  we  were  speaking  of 
the  other  day?    I  mean  the  name.    Can  it  be 
you  are  troubled  about  that?" 

no,  grandfather.     That  doesn't  trouble 
~^e  I  am  not  going  to  change  my 

a  not,  eh?    Decided  the  matter  for 
ve  you?    And  since  when  were  you 
naster?    I  tell  you,  sir,  if  I  say  you 
*nge  it,  you  shall  change  it!    You  are 
and  I  am  your  legal  guardian.    I  can 
ju  change  it!"    The  General  had  unmis- 
1H     /  lost  his  temper. 

Chiistopher  said  nothing.  In  a  moment  Gen- 
eral Keith  paused  again  in  his  walk.  He  stood 
by  the  table  and  rested  his  hands  on  it  while  he 
leaned  over  and  looked  at  the  boy. 

181 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW   YORK 

he  make  any  affectionate  demonstration  to  the  old 
man,  as  it  was  his  real  nature  to  do.  He  would 
sit  silently  brooding  over  something  for  an  hour 
at  a  time.  What  it  was  the  General  could  not 
imagine.  He  decided,  therefore,  that  the  boy 
was  ill,  and  he  anxiously  requested  the  house- 
keeper to  feel  his  pulse,  and  he  watched  his  ap- 
petite with  a  close  attention  that  was  pathetic. 

"I  believe  I  will  send  for  the  doctor,"  said  he, 
suddenly,  at  dinner  one  night.  "You  are  not 
eating  anything,  Christopher,  and  you  have  al- 
ways liked  broiled  chicken.  This  is  your  favorite 
kind  of  ice-cream,  too.  You  are  ill.  Have  you 
ever  had  measles? — or  chicken-pox?  And  what 
are  the  other  things  children  have?  You  are 
going  to  have  one  of  them,  I  have  no  doubt.  We 
will  try  and  get  the  doctor  here  to-night.  Tb' 
is  a  very  good  man  at  West  May  bury." 

"I'm  not  sick.     I  don't  need  the  docf 
Christopher. 

"Then  what  is  it?"  asked  theGe 
up  from  the  table  and  walking  to  and  L 
thing  is  the  matter.     Can  you  look  me  IL 
and  say  nothing  is  the  matter?"    He  pau 
Christopher's  chair,  and  placing  his  hand  u 
the  boy's  chin,  he  turned  up  the  face  and  scam. 
it  eagerly,  tenderly,  with  a  long,  searching  look. 

Christopher  gazed  back  at  him,  the  boy's  blue 
eyes  staring  unflinchingly  into  those  of  the  man. 

180 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

The  General's  eyes  had  once  been  dark  and  bright 
and  keen  as  an  eagle's.  They  were  keen  now, 
but  they  were  faded.  He  was  growing  old. 

"What  is  the  matter,  boy  ?    Can't  you  tell  me." 

"No,  grandfather,  I  don't  believe  I  can." 

"There  is  something  on  your  mind,  isn't  there? 
You  are  worried  about  something." 

"Yes,  grandfather." 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  He  was  walking  up  and 
down  again  now.  "Can't  you  tell  me?  Is  it 
money?  Do  you  want  some  more  money?" 

"Oh  no!" 

"Is  it — is  it  the  matter  we  were  speaking  of 
the  other  day?  I  mean  the  name.  Can  it  be 
that  you  are  troubled  about  that?" 

"Oh  no,  grandfather.  That  doesn't  trouble 
me.  Of  course  I  am  not  going  to  change  my 
name." 

"Oh,  you're  not,  eh?  Decided  the  matter  for 
yourself,  have  you?  And  since  when  were  you 
your  own  master?  I  tell  you,  sir,  if  I  say  you 
are  to  change  it,  you  shall  change  it!  You  are 
a  minor,  and  I  am  your  legal  guardian.  I  can 
make  you  change  it!"  The  General  had  unmis- 
takably lost  his  temper. 

Christopher  said  nothing.  In  a  moment  Gen- 
eral Keith  paused  again  in  his  walk.  He  stood 
by  the  table  and  rested  his  hands  on  it  while  he 
leaned  over  and  looked  at  the  boy. 

181 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

"I  dislike  very  much  to  go  into  these  details, 
Christopher,  or  to  point  out  to  any  one  the  bene- 
fits I  have  conferred;  most  of  all  do  I  dislike  to 
enter  into  such  details  with  my  grandson.  But 
you  seem  to  have  forgotten  the  respect  that  is 
due  me.  Do  you  realize,  sir,  that  you  would  be 
penniless  except  for  me? — that  you  were  a  home- 
less orphan? — a — a — "  He  was  about  to  say  a 
cripple,  but  he  stopped  in  time.  The  boy's  lame- 
ness was  one  of  his  grandfather's  heaviest  trials. 
"To  be  sure,  the  Toppans  were  ready  to  adopt 
you,  but  what  would  that  have  been  compared 
to  the  home  and  the  care  that  I  have  given 
you?" 

"I  know  all  that,  grandfather,"  said  Christo- 
pher, speaking  at  last,  "  but  I  can't  help  it.  I 
am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  but  I  can't  change 
my  name.  Father  wouldn't  like  it." 

"Then  don't  change  it!"  shouted  General  Keith. 
"And  go  to  your  room  at  once,  sir.  I  don't  wish 
to  see  you  again  to-night." 

Christopher  obeyed  him.  The  General  watched 
him  as  he  left  the  dining-room.  His  limp  was 
scarcely  perceptible,  but  it  was  there.  The  boy 
paused  a  moment  in  the  hall  and  looked  back, 
and  as  he  did  so,  by  a  sudden  impulse,  the  old 
man  opened  wide  his  arms.  In  a  moment  the 
boy  was  in  them. 

"What  is  it,  child?"  asked  the  grandfather. 

182 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

"What  is  troubling  you?  Can't  you  tell  your 
old  grand?" 

"I  can't.  You  wouldn't  like  it,"  whispered 
Chris,  who  was  crying — "you  wouldn't  like  it." 
And  he  would  say  nothing  more. 

After  awhile  he  went  to  bed,  and  General 
Keith,  sitting  by  his  library  table,  pretended  to 
read.  What  could  have  happened  to  the  boy? 
He  thought  of  going  to  consult  somebody,  but 
his  pride  forbade  it.  Mrs.  Toppan  might  help 
him,  or  Mrs.  Hamilton.  On  the  whole,  Mrs. 
Hamilton  would  be  the  better  person,  for  Mrs. 
Toppan  must  not  know  that  Christopher  was  not 
happy.  She  had  wished  to  adopt  him  for  her 
own.  It  would  not  do  to  let  her  be  aware  of  the 
fact  that  life  with  his  grandfather  was  not  a  com- 
plete success.  Indeed,  it  would  be  quite  out  of 
the  question  to  impart  such  a  secret  to  any  one. 
No;  the  General  had  never  been  in  the  habit  of 
consulting  others  about  his  affairs;  he  would  not 
begin  now.  Probably  it  was  just  some  fancy  of 
Christopher's  which  he  would  get  over.  All  chil- 
dren had  fancies  of  some  kind,  presumably.  This 
matter  of  the  name,  now.  It  was  an  idea  of  the' 
boy's  that  he  could  not  give  up  his  father's  name. 
No  doubt  he  had  an  exaggerated  sense  of  the 
duty  that  he  thought  he  owed  to  the  memory  of 
his  dead  father.  It  would  be  best  to  let  matters 
"lest  awhile — to  say  nothing,  and  to  fill  his  mind 

183 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

with  other  things;  in  short,  to  direct  his  atten- 
tion from  all  serious  affairs,  and  then,  later,  to 
bring  up  the  subject  again.  For  the  General  had 
no  intention  of  yielding;  he  had  never  yielded. 
Why  should  he  begin  now?  Of  course,  his  grand- 
son should  be  made  to  do  as  he  thought  best,  and 
of  course  it  was  best  that  the  Keith  name  should 
inherit  the  Keith  money.  But  all  in  good  time — 
all  in  good  time. 

And  having  decided  thus,  he  tiptoed  up  to  see 
if  Christopher  was  awake,  and  finding  that  he 
was,  he  kissed  him  and  told  him  not  to  worry 
about  things.  And  Christopher,  who  had  also 
been  thinking  things  over,  and  who  loved  the  old 
man  as  truly  as  he  himself  was  loved,  patted  his 
hand  and  promised  not  to  worry.  He  honestly 
tried  to  forget  the  story  he  had  overheard,  and 
which  had  been  the  cause  of  his  changed  attitude 
toward  his  grandfather,  but  that  was  a  most  diffi- 
cult task.  He  had  brooded  over  it  so  much  that 
by  this  time  it  had  attained  overwhelming  pro- 
portions. It  seemed  to  him  that  his  grandfather 
must  be  a  very  cruel  man,  and  yet  he  could  not 
reconcile  this  view  of  him  with  the  one  which  he 
already  knew.  It  was  all  very  puzzling.  But 
he  wanted  to  love  him,  and  now  that  the  General 
had  come  to  him  so  tenderly,  he  could  not  believe 
him  to  be  cruel.  No,  there  was  some  mistake 
somewhere.  And  still  holding  his  grandfather's 
184 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

hand  while  the  old  man  sat  beside  his  bed,  the 
boy  fell  asleep. 

It  was  a  long,  long  time  before  the  General 
moved.  It  seemed  so  wonderful  a  thing  to  hold 
the  relaxed,  childish  fingers  within  his  own. 

"And  he  is  mine!"  thought  he.  "My  own 
grandson — my  daughter's  son — my  boy!" 


xn 

THE  afternoon  appointed  for  Mrs.  Martin's 
four -o'clock  proved  to  be  one  of  the  hot- 
test of  the  season.  For  many  days  the  sun  had 
been  shining  from  a  cloudless  sky,  and  the 
earth  was  so  baked  with  its  rays  that  even  at 
night  there  was  but  little  relief.  There  had  been 
no  rain  for  weeks,  and  the  farmers  were  growing 
anxious;  every  morning  and  every  evening  they 
searched  the  horizon  and  peered  at  the  direction 
of  the  wind,  hoping  for  signs  of  change,  after  the 
manner  of  those  whose  livelihood  depends  upon 
so  uncertain  a  factor  as  the  weather.  Mrs.  Mar- 
tin had  been  saying  for  a  week  that  it  would  be 
"just  her  luck  to  have  the  drought  break  up  the 
day  she  most  wished  to  have  pleasant;  she  never 
did  want  rain  but  what  it  was  clear,  nor  want  it 
clear  but  what  it  rained."  But  this  time  her 
gloomy  predictions  did  not  come  true,  and  she, 
not  the  farmers,  was  destined  to  be  gratified. 

Since  early  dawn  she  and  her  daughter  had 
been  busy,  and  when  at  half-past  three  they  seated 
themselves  in  the  best  parlor,  to  await  with  what 

186 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW   YORK 

patience  they  could  muster  the  arrival  of  their 
guests  at  four  o'clock,  they  were  so  tired  that 
Mrs.  Martin  did  not  hesitate  to  declare  that  she 
would  never  give  a  four  -  o'clock  again  as  long 
as  she  lived.  Rachel  Amy's  new  dress,  made  for 
the  occasion  in  South  Maybury,  was  thick  and 
scratchy,  and  so  tight  in  the  collar  that  she  felt 
as  though  she  were  being  strangled,  and  her  new 
shoes  gave  forth  so  alarming  a  creak  that  it  em- 
barrassed her  to  take  a  step.  The  creaking  shoes 
not  only  seemed  to  make  the  day  hotter,  but  they 
hurt.  Mrs.  Martin,  in  a  thick  green,  silk  which 
accentuated  the  sallowness  of  her  complexion, 
felt  that  the  consciousness  of  being  well  dressed 
atoned  somewhat  for  the  arduous  preparations. 
"I'm  glad  I  got  green,  for  it's  altogether  worn," 
she  said  to  her  daughter,  as  she  rocked  to  and  fro 
and  farmed  herself.  "I  noticed  Florence  Hamil- 
ton had  on  a  green  last  Sabbath  in  church.  Hers 
was  only  a  muslin,  and  couldn't  have  cost  more'n 
a  quarter  of  a  dollar  a  yard,  if  that.  It  does  beat 
all  the  cheap  clothes  those  rich  folks  wear.  I 
suppose  they  think  anything  is  good  enough  for 
up  here  in  the  country,  and  that's  the  very  rea- 
son I  bought  me  and  I  bought  you  a  new  dress, 
Rachel  Amy.  I  set  my  heart  on  provin'  to  'em 
that  I  know  what's  what.  My,  ain't  it  hot! 
Are  you  sure  you  set  all  the  saucers  right,  and 
that  the  maple  syrup's  on,  Rachel  Amy?  There, 

187 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

I  never  once  thought  of  havin'  the  melodeon 
standin'  open,  with  a  piece  of  music  on  it,  so  as 
to  look  as  if  one  of  us  played  regular.  You  fix 
it  now,  Rachel  Amy." 

Her  daughter  creaked  over  to  the  melodeon, 
arranged  it  as  she  was  directed,  and  creaked  back 
again  to  her  place. 

"I  do  hope  they'll  all  come  punctual,"  con- 
tinued Mrs.  Martin.  "  If  there's  anything  I  can't 
abide  it's  havin'  to  wait.  What  time  is  it  now, 
Rachel  Amy?" 

Rachel  Amy  creaked  into  the  next  room  and 
reported  the  hour  as  twenty  minutes  of  four. 

"  Twenty  minutes  yet!  Dear  me,  those  shoes 
of  yours  make  an  awful  sight  of  noise !  If  there's 
anything  I  do  hate  it's  hearin'  creakin'  shoes  on 
a  hot  day,  or  any  day,  as  to  that.  It  seems  as 
if  it  was  just  my  luck  that  you  happened 'on  such 
shoes,  child.  It  gives  me  a  headache  to  have 
you  move.  You'll  have  to  keep  as  quiet  as  you 
can.  It's  real  unfortunate  for  me,  though,  with 
no  one  else  to  depend  upon.  It  does  seem  to  me 
as  if  there  was  no  one  had  things  go  wrong  the 
way  I  do.  And  such  a  hot  day  as  this  is,  and  I 
one  who  feels  the  heat  so !  I  don't  believe  there's 
a  person  who  feels  heat  as  much  as  I  do,  and  yet 
I'm  so  thin.  If  I  was  fleshy  there'd  be  some  rea- 
son for  it.  It  just  wilts  me  right  down.  You're 
pretty  lucky,  Rachel  Amy,  that  you  don't  take 

188 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

after  me  in  feelin'  the  heat.  Go  tell  your  aunt 
Lucetta  and  Lucy  to  come  in  now.  Won't  it  be 
a  surprise  to  all  the  folks  to  find  the  wire  netting's 
down,  and  that  we're  friends  again !  I  always  was 
of  a  most  forgivin'  nature." 

Rachel  Amy  did  as  she  was  bidden,  and  pres- 
ently Miss  Lucetta  and  Lucy  were  established  in 
Mrs.  Martin's  parlor.  Intercourse  between  the 
two  branches  of  the  family  was  still  somewhat 
strained,  but  the  netting  had  been  taken  away 
and  business  arrangements  had  been  talked  over. 
Miss  Lucetta  and  Rachel  Amy  felt  very  happy 
about  it,  but  to  George  and  Lucy  it  was  a  different 
matter.  They  had  no  reason  for  loving  their 
aunt  Eliza.  George  had  arrived  at  Maybury 
Centre  that  morning,  but  upon  finding  the  net- 
ting gone  he  had  left  the  house  again  and  had 
passed  the  greater  part  of  the  day  in  the  woods. 

"You  look  as  cool  as  anything,  Lucetta.  It's 
real  aggravatin'  to  see  you,  and  me  feelin'  the 
heat  so  much,"  said  Mrs.  Martin. 

But  before  her  sister  had  time  to  reply  to  this 
amiable  greeting  the  first  guest  was  seen  coming 
up  the  path.  It  was  Mrs.  Davis,  of  West  May- 
bury, a  very  great  lady  indeed,  and  her  presence 
at  the  feast,  as  well  as  her  punctual  arrival, 
caused  Mrs.  Martin  to  forget,  for  a  time  at  least, 
the  perversity  of  human  affairs.  Most  of  the 
guests  were  prompt,  and  by  twenty  minutes  past 

189 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

four  they  were  all  there  with  the  exception  of  the 
Hamiltons.  The  news  of  the  reconciliation  had 
already  spread,  and  Miss  Lucetta  was  greeted 
with  marked  cordiality.  Mrs.  Martin  cast  many 
an  anxious  glance  toward  the  front  door  as  she 
stood  by  the  mantel-piece  and  conversed  with  her 
friends.  She  intended  that  they  should  be  seated 
later,  but  until  all  had  assembled  they  should 
remain  standing.  Where  were  the  Hamiltons? 
It  would  be  just  her  luck  if  something  had  hap- 
pened to  prevent  them  from  coming,  but  in  that 
case  they  certainly  should  have  sent  word.  It 
was  difficult  to  talk  with  this  possibility  in  her 
mind,  but  at  last  a  stir  in  the  room  and  the  turn- 
ing of  several  heads  toward  the  windows  gave 
indication  of  an  arrival  of  some  sort,  and  present- 
ly Mrs.  Hamilton  came  in  accompanied  by  her 
three  daughters. 

"I'm  real  pleased  you've  come  at  last,"  said 
Mrs.  Martin,  shaking  hands  with,  each  in  turn, 
and  then  introducing  them  to  the  other  guests. 
"I  didn't  know  as  you'd  ever  get  here." 

"We  were  delayed  just  as  we  were  starting," 
said  Mrs.  Hamilton.  "Something  was  wrong 
with  the  harness.  You  see,  I  have  my  eldest 
daughter  with  me  after  all,  Mrs.  Martin.  She  is 
not  going  away  until  to-morrow,  so  I  took  the 
liberty  of  bringing  her." 

"Well,  I'm  pleased  to  see  her,"  said  Mrs.  Mar- 

190 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

tin,  "as  long  as  we're  not  sittin'  at  table  with 
regular  set  places.  I  did  invite  a  lady  to  take  her 
place  when  I  heard  she  couldn't  come,  but  I 
presume  it  won't  be  too  crowded.  Now,  if  you'll 
all  be  seated —  She  pointed  to  the  sofa  and 
chairs  which  had  been  arranged  with  their  backs 
to  the  four  walls  of  the  room.  All  sat  down,  and 
for  a  moment  there  was  profound  silence.  It  was 
broken  by  Betty. 

"Are  we  going  to  play  games?"  she  asked. 
Her  voice  was  loud  and  clear.  She  was  intensely 
interested  in  the  proceedings. 

"No,  we're  not,"  replied  her  hostess. 

"Oh!"  said  Betty,  with  unmistakable  disap- 
pointment. "Then  what  are  we  going  to  do?" 

Florence,  who  was  sitting  next  to  her,  touched 
her  foot  gently  with  her  own.  "  Do  hush,  Betty !" 
she  whispered. 

Betty  was  about  to  respond  in  some  way  to 
this  when  her  attention  was  arrested  by  Mrs. 
Martin's  next  remark.  Evidently  these  "city 
folks"  were  in  the  habit  of  receiving  entertain- 
ment of  some  kind,  and  they  should  find  that 
Maybury  Centre  was  not  behind  New  York  city. 

"We  are  to  have  some  music,"  said  Mrs.  Mar- 
tin. "Mrs.  Davis,  I  presume  you  play.  Will 
you  be  so  kind  as  to  give  us  a  tune  on  the  me- 
lodeon?" 

"Why,  Lizy  Martin!"  cried  Mrs.  Davis,  who 

13  191 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

looked  the  personification  of  plumpness  and  pros- 
perity, "I  haven't  touched  a  piano,  let  alone  a 
melodeon,  since  I  was  married.  I  sh'd  forget  to 
keep  my  feet  goin'  sure  as  anything.  Get  some 
of  the  young  folks  to  play  us  something.  There's 
your  Rachel  Amy.  I  presume  she  can  play." 

But  Rachel  Amy,  in  an  agony  of  shyness,  van- 
ished into  the  next  room,  and  the  sound  of  her 
shoes  was  heard  in  a  diminuendo  as  she  hastened 
to  the  remotest  corner  of  her  mother's  share  of 
the  house. 

"There!"  said  Mrs.  Martin.  "To  think  of  all 
the  money  I've  spent  on  her  musical  education, 
and  now  she  won't  put  her  finger  to  the  keys! 
Don't  any  of  your  girls  play,  Mrs.  Hamilton?" 

"Florence  does,"  piped  out  Betty,  who  had  not 
quite  forgiven  her  sister  for  her  signal  of  silence. 

"Yes,  Florence  plays,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton; 
"though  I  don't  know  whether  you  have  ever 
played  on  a  melodeon,  have  you,  dear?" 

"Never,"  said  Florence.  "I'm  sure  I  never 
could." 

"  I  could,"  said  Betty.  "  I've  tried  it.  Would 
you  like  me  to  play  'Home,  Sweet  Home,  with 
Variations'?" 

Without  waiting  to  be  urged,  she  went  to  the 
little  organ  and  played  her  "piece."  As  she  oc- 
casionally forgot  to  keep  her  feet  in  action,  be- 
ing so  fully  occupied  with  her  hands,  the  music 

192 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

was  somewhat  halting  and  gasping  in  its  effect, 
but  no  one  seemed  to  mind. 

"Isn't  it  hot!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Davis,  when  she 
had  finished  thanking  her. 

"Would  you  like  fans?"  asked  Mrs.  Martin. 
"Rachel  Amy,  hand  round  the  fans." 

Rachel  Amy,  who  had  appeared  when  Betty 
began  to  play,  procured  a  pile  of  palm-leaf  fans 
and  distributed  them  as  far  as  they  would  go. 

"My,  but  your  shoes  creak!"  said  Betty,  quite 
audibly,  from  the  music-stool.  Rachel  Amy's  face 
became  more  deeply  flushed  than  before,  but  she 
did  not  speak. 

"Come,  sit  down  by  me,  child,"  said  Mrs.  Top- 
pan,  making  room  for  her  on  the  sofa;  "you  look 
real  tired,  Rachel  Amy.  I  guess  you've  been 
working  hard  getting  ready;  and  it's  such  a  hot 
day." 

"Well,  if  anybody's  felt  the  heat  I  guess  it's 
me,"  said  Mrs.  Martin.  "It's  not  worth  while 
for  you  to  be  sittin'  down  now,  Rachel  Amy. 
It's  time  we  had  the  refreshments.  If  you'll  ex- 
cuse me  a  minute,  ladies — "  She  left  the  room, 
followed  by  her  daughter,  and  the  visitors  fanned 
and  rocked  and  talked  while  she  was  gone,  and 
Betty,  in  response  to  a  request  from  Mrs.  Davis, 
again  played  "Home,  Sweet  Home." 

"I  did  it  better  that  time,"  said  she.  "I  only 
forgot  my  feet  once.  Would  you  like  to  hear 

193 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

'Monastery  Bells'?"  But  before  she  had  played 
more  than  the  opening  bars  of  that  classic  she 
was  interrupted  by  the  return  of  their  hostess, 
who  came  in  bearing  a  large  tray,  and  followed 
by  Rachel  Amy  carrying  a  smaller  one.  These 
trays  were  placed  upon  the  centre-table,  from  the 
top  of  which  Mrs.  Toppan  hurriedly  removed  the 
piles  of  books  and  the  ornamental  lamp  at  the 
request  of  Mrs.  Martin,  who  had  not  done  this 
before  the  company  came,  for  the  obvious  reason 
that  she  wished  her  new  lamp  to  be  seen  and 
admired. 

"There!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Martin.  "I  d'  know 
as  it's  etiquettical,  but  I  thought  it  would  be  real 
acceptable  and  something  new  at  a  four-o'clock 
to  have  maple  syrup  instead  of  tea.  It's  more 
substantial,  anyway.  Rachel  Amy,  you  hand 
round  the  saucers.  Ain't  her  shoes  awful, 
though?  Suppose  you  try  goin'  on  your  tip- 
toes, Rachel  Amy,  and  then  you  won't  make  such 
a  noise.  I  hope  it  ain't  givin'  any  of  you  a  head- 
ache like  it  has  me.  You're  lucky  if  it  hasn't. 
I  don't  believe  anybody  ever  had  such  headaches 
as  I  have.  It  does  seem  sometimes  as  though  I 
was  especially  picked  out  by  the  Lord  to  suffer." 

While  she  talked  she  handed  the  plates,  upon 
each  of  which  was  a  glass  saucer  containing 
the  maple  syrup,  to  her  daughter,  who  in  turn 
distributed  them  among  the  guests. 

194 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

"It's  real  hot;  be  careful  you  don't  burn  your 
mouth,"  whispered  Rachel  Amy  to  each  person. 

The  guests  stirred  and  hesitated.  No  one  felt 
like  burning  her  mouth  on  a  hot  day.  There  was 
no  doubt  about  the  heat  in  the  syrup,  for  steam 
was  certainly  to  be  seen  rising  from  each  saucer. 
One  or  two  tried  the  effect  of  blowing  upon  the 
spoonful.  No  one  spoke  for  a  long  time.  At 
last  Betty  laid  down  her  spoon. 

"Goody,  but  it's  sweet!"  she  exclaimed.  "I 
don't  believe  I  can  eat  another  drop.  It  makes 
me  feel — " 

"Betty!"  said  her  mother  and  Florence  to- 
gether. 

"There  goes  Chris!"  put  in  Pauline,  who  was 
by  the  window  and  had  heroically  disposed  of  all 
of  her  syrup.  Her  remark  effectually  diverted 
Betty's  attention  from  the  possible  effects  of  the 
refreshments. 

"Oh,  I  want  to  speak  to  him!"  she  cried,  set- 
ting her  plate  upon  the  music-stool,  from  which 
she  had  quickly  jumped  down,  and,  hurrying  to 
the  front  door,  she  ran  out-of-doors,  glad  to  es- 
cape from  the  stifling  atmosphere  of  the  crowded 
parlor. 

"Chris,  where  are  you  going?"  she  called  out. 
"Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come  along!  We're 
having  the  most  awful  time  at  a  party.  I  don't 
think  I'll  go  back.  I  was  going  to  call  you  in, 

195 


MISS    BETTY   OF    NEW  YORK 

but  it  is  so  nice  and  fresh  outside  I  am  going  to 
stay  out.  Such  a  party !  We  are  all  eating  hor- 
rible, hot,  sweet  stuff  that  burns  your  mouth  and 
makes  you  feel  ill!  What  are  you  going  to  do? 
I'll  go  with  you." 

Christopher  hesitated.  Then  he  said,  slowly: 
"I've  been  to  see  George  Smith.  I  heard  he  was 
here,  and  I — I  wanted  to  speak  to  him." 

"What  do  you  want  to  speak  to  George  Smith 
about?  Chris,  you  act  just  as  if  you  had  a  secret. 
Is  it  with  George  Smith?  I  think  it  will  be  real 
mean  if  you  don't  tell  me,  too,  when  we  are  such 
intimate  friends.  You  haven't  been  over  for  ever 
so  long.  I  thought  you  must  be  mad  about  some- 
thing, only  I  knew  there  wasn't  anything  you 
could  possibly  be  mad  with  me  for." 

"Oh  no,"  said  Christopher,  "I'm  not  mad 
with  you."  He  was  moving  slowly  away  from 
her.  "I  think  if  you'll  excuse  me,  Betty,  I'll 
go  home  now." 

"That  means  you  don't  want  me  to  know  it. 
I  think  it's  very  strange.  You  are  certainly 
quite  queer,  Chris.  You  look  different.  I  be- 
lieve you  are  mad!" 

"Oh  no,  I'm  not!    Indeed  I'm  not,  Betty." 

"Then  if  you're  not,  why  don't  you  stay  and 
talk  to  me?  Or  we  can  walk  a  little  way  to- 
gether. I'm  perfectly  sick  of  the  party  and  the 
old  maple  syrup." 

196 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  be  very  polite  for  you 
to  leave?" 

"Oh,  of  course.  Mamma  and  Florence  and 
Pauline  are  all  there.  Nobody  cares  whether  I 
go  back.  Do  tell  me  what  the  matter  is.  You 
always  used  to  tell  me  things,  Chris.  You  never 
have  been  like  this."  Her  voice,  which  was  usu- 
ally crisp  and  high,  became  softer.  She  spoke  in 
a  gentle  tone  of  sympathy.  Her  quick  intuition 
had  told  her  that  something  serious  was  really 
troubling  the  boy. 

He  glanced  at  her.  He  was  very  fond  of  Betty, 
and,  as  she  said,  he  always  had  made  her  his  con- 
fidante. To  be  sure,  there  had  never  before  been 
anything  quite  so  important  to  confide,  but  he 
knew  that  she  could  be  trusted  not  to  tell  if  she 
promised.  With  all  her  high  spirits  and  her  heed- 
lessness,  Betty  Hamilton  always  kept  her  promises. 
Perhaps  she  would  be  able  to  advise  him.  He  had 
a  great  respect  for  her  knowledge  of  the  world. 

"I  believe  I  will  tell  you,"  he  said,  slowly. 

"Good!    I  knew  you  would." 

But  just  then  Pauline  came  to  Mrs.  Martin's 
front  door.  "Come  in,  Betty,  and  say  good-bye," 
she  said.  "Mamma  says  that  we  are  to  go  home 
now.  Come!  Betty,  you  were  awfully  rude  to 
run  out." 

"Oh,  bother!"  exclaimed  Betty.  "Well,  Chris, 
will  you  wait  here  for  me?" 

197 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

"No,  I  can't.  I  have  got  to  go  home.  But 
couldn't  you  come  over  to-morrow?  Grandfather 
said  I  was  to  ask  anybody  to  come  I  liked." 

"All  right,  I  will,  if  you'll  promise  to  tell  me. 
Will  you?" 

"Yes,  and  that  will  be  better  than  here.  I 
couldn't  tell  you  about  it  all  here." 

This  was  certainly  mysterious,  and  Betty  re- 
turned to  the  party  in  a  state  of  intense  wonder 
and  curiosity.  What  could  be  the  matter  with 
Chris?  But  she  forgot  it  temporarily,  for  such 
very  strange  things  were  taking  place  in  the 
house. 

The  guests  were  all  standing,  and  were  evi- 
dently about  to  go.  Mrs.  Martin  was  speaking: 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I've  made  up  my  mind  at 
last  and  decided  to  take  him.  Me  and  Mr.  Tarle- 
ton  are  goin'  to  be  married  next  week  Wednes- 
day. We're  goin'  to  live  over  to  Kingford.  He's 
goin'  into  business  there.  I  never  did  care  much 
for  Maybury  Centre.  Lucetta's  goin'  to  buy  my 
half  of  this  house,  and  Rachel  Amy's  goin'  to  live 
here  with  her.  It  suits  better,  and  she  can  visit 
to  and  fro.  It's  goin'  to  be  a  real  quiet  weddin', 
but  when  I  get  settled  over  to  Kingford  I  shall  be 
at  home  certain  days,  and  you  can  come  and  call 
on  me.  I  always  did  have  a  hankerin'  to  live 
there,  and  it  suits  me  real  well  that  Mr.  Tarleton 
is  goin'  into  business  there." 

198 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

The  guests  gathered  about  her  and  gave  her 
their  congratulations;  then  they  bade  her  good- 
bye. 

She  shook  hands  mechanically  with  each  in  turn 
as  they  filed  past  her,  murmuring  that  they  had 
enjoyed  the  four-o'clock  very  much.  They  all 
longed  to  get  home  now,  that  they  might  discuss 
the  affair  in  all  its  bearings.  The  house  with  the 
wire  netting  and  the  divided  family  had  been  of 
supreme  interest  in  the  village  for  a  year,  and  this 
episode  but  added  fuel  to  the  flame  of  gossip. 
Mrs.  Toppan  walked  with  Mrs.  Hamilton  to  the 
point  where  their  roads  parted.  The  two  had  a 
warm  liking  for  each  other. 

"Well,  it's  wonderful  how  things  are  turning 
out.  I  do  hope  life  will  be  easier  now  for  that 
poor  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Toppan.  "Mr.  Toppan  al- 
ways said  words  would  do  no  good  now  with 
Liza  Martin.  You  can't  change  a  woman  of  her 
age,  and  there's  no  use  trying.  Only  the  Lord 
can  work  miracles,  and  He  seems  to  be  doin'  it, 
but  we  mortals  can't.  Poor  Rachel  Amy !  She's 
had  a  hard  time  of  it,  but  a  change  has  come  at 
last." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  glanced  at  her  three  daughters, 
who  were  walking  in  front,  whose  lot  was  so  dif- 
ferent. "She  seems  like  such  a  nice  girl.  I  am 
very  glad  for  her,"  she  said. 

"And  she  is  a  nice  girl!"  said  Mrs.  Toppan. 

199 


MISS    BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

"Next  to  Chris,  I'm  more  fond  of  Rachel  Amy 
than  any  child  in  Maybury  Centre.  Of  course,  no 
one  comes  up  to  Chris.  I'm  worried  about  him. 
He  don't  seem  quite  happy.  Dear  me,  I  thought 
when  he  went  to  live  at  Keith  Hall  and  had  every- 
thing money  could  do  for  him  he'd  be  happy 
enough,  but  the  old  gentleman  isn't  an  easy  one 
to  live  with.  Something's  going  wrong,  Mrs. 
Hamilton.  Have  you  noticed  it?" 

But  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  not  seen  Christopher 
lately,  so  could  give  no  clew  to  the  cause  of  the 
change  in  the  boy;  and  presently  they  reached 
the  fork  in  the  roads,  and  Mrs.  Toppan  hastened 
home  alone. 


XIII 

/CHRISTOPHER,  when  Betty  returned  to 
\J  make  the  proper  farewells  to  Mrs.  Martin, 
walked  slowly  along  the  street.  It  was  a  long 
distance  from  Keith  Hall  to  the  village,  and  in 
the  heat  and  dust  it  had  been  more  than  usual- 
ly fatiguing.  For  some  undefined  reason  he  had 
not  wished  to  ride  his  pony.  Neither  would  he 
ask  his  grandfather  for  the  use  of  one  of  the 
many  carriages.  It  was  not  merely  because  he 
did  not  care  to  have  him  know  where  he  was 
going;  there  was  something  deeper,  more  serious 
than  that.  He  would  not  ask  a  favor. 

The  boy  had  no  one  to  speak  to,  no  one  of 
whom  to  seek  advice.  There  are  few  who  can 
reach  a  wise  decision  unaided  when  our  affairs 
seem  complicated,  few  who  are  not  helped  by  the 
mere  fact  of  "talking  over"  that  which  is  troub- 
ling us,  and  Christopher  was  still  a  child,  and  one 
who  needed  the  tender  compassion  of  a  mother, 
the  wise  counsel  of  a  father.  He  thought  more 
than  once  of  going  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Toppan,  and  of 

laying  the  matter  before  them ;  but  though  they 
201 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

were  near  and  dear  friends,  they  were  not  his  kin. 
The  ties  of  blood  relationship  were  very  strongly 
developed  in  this  boy  who,  until  now,  had  been  so 
alone.  He  was  too  much  in  sympathy  with  his 
grandfather  to  discuss  the  proud  old  man  with 
any  one  else.  He  had  too  much  pride  himself 
to  acknowledge  to  the  Toppans  that  General 
Keith  had  been  unkind,  unjust,  to  ask  them  if  it 
would  be  right  for  him  to  give  up  his  father's 
name.  Betty  Hamilton  might  be  different.  She 
was  only  a  child  like  himself.  Perhaps  his  grand- 
father would  not  mind  so  much  if  he  only  told 
Betty. 

He  thought  about  this  in  a  vague  way  as  he 
trudged  along  the  sun-baked  road.  Although  it 
was  now  late  in  the  afternoon,  it  was  still  very  hot. 
There  was  scarcely  a  breath  of  air  stirring.  The 
bushes  and  grass  which  grew  beside  the  road 
were  gray  with  dust  and  parched  by  lack  of  rain. 
Some  cows  pastured  on  the  other  side  of  the  stone 
wall  moved  toward  the  bars,  hoping,  no  doubt, 
that  he  had  come  to  lead  them  home.  A  little 
garter-snake  wriggled  across  his  path,  and  the 
faint  rustling  in  the  grass  showed  where  it  dis- 
appeared. Chris  paused  a  moment  to  watch  its 
course,  but  it  was  soon  gone.  Just  then  a  car- 
riage turned  a  bend  in  the  road  ahead  and  ap- 
proached him.  The  General  himself  was  driving 

the  fine  bay  horses,  seated  on  the  high  box-seat 
202 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

with  the  groom  beside  him.  When  he  saw  Chris 
he  reined  in  the  bays  and  the  man  jumped  down. 

"  I  thought  I  should  meet  you,"  called  out  Gen- 
eral Keith.  "It  is  too  hot  for  you  to  be  walking 
so  far.  Why  didn't  you  ask  for  a  horse,  Chris- 
topher? What  do  you  mean  by  walking  on  a 
day  like  this,  with  the  stable  full  of  horses  eat- 
ing their  heads  off  and  needing  to  be  exercised? 
Come,  get  in.  Hawkins,  help  Mr.  Christopher  up. 
Be  careful,  now." 

Christopher  made  no  audible  response.  Whether 
he  desired  it  or  not,  he  allowed  himself  to  be  as- 
sisted to  the  place  beside  his  grandfather,  and  the 
man  climbed  in  behind. 

"We  will  take  a  little  drive  now  we  are  out," 
said  the  General.  "Where  have  you  been?  Eh? 
I  can't  hear  you.  Speak  louder,  my  boy.  Your 
old  grandfather  is  getting  deaf,  and  you  are  so 
far  below  rne  in  this  trap." 

"I  have  been  to  the  village,"  repeated  Chris- 
topher, and  then  they  both  became  silent.  The 
General  intended  to  question  him  more  closely 
on  their  return,  but,  as  he  had  said,  conversation 
was  difficult  from  his  high  seat.  They  met  Mrs. 
Toppan  just  after  she  had  parted  from  Mrs. 
Hamilton.  She  smiled  up  at  her  favorite  as  she 
waited  beside  the  road  to  let  the  carriage  pass. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  them  driving  together,"  she 
said  to  herself,  heedless  of  the  clouds  of  dust  in 

203 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

which  she  stood  while  she  watched  them  drive 
on.  "I  don't  know  what  it  is,  but  I've  had  that 
feeling  so  strong  to-day  that  something  was  wrong 
with  the  child.  Dan'el  would  say  it  was  all 
nonsense,  and  most  likely  it  is,  but  I  felt  it  all  the 
same.  Seeing  them  together  makes  me  feel  bet- 
ter. Dear  me!  I  wish  I  could  look  after  that 
child  myself!  It  seems  as  though  I  just  didn't 
have  enough  faith  to  trust  him  to  the  Lord — as 
if  I  must  put  my  finger  in  a  pie  which  it  is  clear 
enough  the  Lord  doesn't  intend  me  to  have  the 
baking  of!  Well,  He  knows  best,  and  I  know 
He  knows  best,  but  it's  hard  to  settle  down  quiet- 
ly to  the  knowledge.  Marthy  Toppan,  you've 
got  a  lot  to  learn  yet!  The  hardest  thing  in  the 
world  to  agree  to,  though,  is  to  wait  and  do 
nothing." 

The  General  and  his  grandson  took  a  long  drive, 
and  when  they  returned  to  the  village  they  found 
that  the  mail  was  in.  Hawkins  went  into  the 
post-office  and  brought  out  but  two  letters,  which 
he  gave  to  General  Keith.  The  General  thrust 
them  into  his  pocket,  but  as  soon  as  he  reached 
home  he  opened  and  read  them.  They  were  evi- 
dently of  great  importance,  for  he  quite  forgot  to 
question  Christopher  about  the  afternoon,  nor 
could  he  talk  on  any  subject  during  dinner.  His 
mind  was  completely  absorbed  by  the  contents 
of  one  of  his  letters.  He  took  it  out  and  read  it 

204 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

again  as  soon  as  dinner  was  over.  Then  he  sat 
on  the  porch  smoking  until  Christopher  went  to 
bed,  not  playing  the  violin  as  usual,  nor  speaking 
to  the  boy.  Chris  kissed  him  good-night  and 
went  up-stairs,  and  then  the  General  walked  up 
and  down  for  some  time,  finally  going  into  the 
library  and  seating  himself  at  his  desk,  where  he 
wrote  several  letters,  quite  oblivious  to  time  and 
to  anything  which  might  be  occurring  within  or 
without  the  big  house. 

That  evening  at  about  eight  o'clock  George 
Smith  walked  past  the  Toppan  Farm  and  over 
the  road  to  Keith  Hall.  He  reached  the  entrance 
gates  of  the  great  estate  a  few  minutes  after 
General  Keith  left  the  piazza  and  went  to  his 
library.  George  did  not  approach  the  front  of 
the  house,  but  went  instead  to  the  side,  and  stood 
quietly  beneath  one  of  the  windows.  Presently 
the  mosquito  frame  was  gently  raised  in  this  win- 
dow and  Christopher  leaned  out. 

"George,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  was  scarcely 
more  than  a  whisper,  "are  you  there?" 

"Yes,"  replied  George,  "and  it's  to-morrow. 
Seven  o'clock  train.  Can  you  get  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Say,  Chris!" 

"What?" 

"I  think  you're  an  awful  fool.  You'd  better 
not." 

205 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

"Yes,  I  will!    I'm  going!" 

"All  right.  But  I  think  you're  a  fool,  all  the 
same." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  opinion,  George 
walked  away  as  quietly  as  he  had  come.  At  the 
gate,  just  as  he  turned  into  the  road  to  go  back 
to  the  village,  he  met  Thomas,  who  was  coming 
from  there  himself.  They  bade  each  other  good- 
evening,  but  nothing  more  was  said.  Thomas 
supposed  it  was  some  friend  of  one  of  the  other 
men.  The  moon  was  just  rising,  and  it  had  been 
too  dark  to  distinguish  clearly  who  it  was.  He 
passed  an  hour  at  the  stable  himself,  and  then 
returned  to  the  house. 

Christopher,  who  was  still  watching  from  his 
window,  saw  Thomas  come  in  the  gate,  and  he 
hurried  back  to  bed.  After  lying  there  quietly 
for  a  little  while  he  got  up  and  packed  a  few 
things  in  a  bag.  The  moon  was  up  now  and 
shining  right  into  his  room.  It  was  not  necessary 
to  have  any  other  light.  There  was  not  much  to 
do,  and  within  half  an  hour  he  was  in  bed  again, 
but  it  was  long  before  he  fell  asleep. 

Dawn  came  very  early  these  days,  and  with  the 
first  gray  streaks  in  the  east  he  was  awake.  He 
must  not  miss  the  train.  He  dressed  himself, 
thinking  as  he  did  so  of  a  story  he  had  read  of  a 
boy  who  ran  away  from  home,  and  who,  in  the 
act  of  departure,  carried  his  shoes  in  one  hand 

206 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

and  his  bag  in  the  other  as  he  crept  down-stairs. 
This  boy  had  dropped  his  shoes  with  a  great  clat- 
ter, so  Christopher  decided  to  wear  his.  Very 
softly  he  left  his  room,  closing  the  door  as  he 
came  out,  and  very  softly  he  went  down  the 
great  staircase.  It  was  daylight  now,  although 
the  sun  was  not  yet  up.  As  he  passed  the  dining- 
room  door  the  thought  of  food  occurred  to  him. 
He  had  been  awake  so  much  that  in  spite  of 
the  excitement  of  running  away  he  felt  hungry. 
There  were  some  crackers  in  a  china  jar  on  the 
sideboard  and  some  apples  in  a  dish.  He  filled 
his  pockets  with  both,  but  he  did  not  stop  to  eat 
them  then.  Presently  he  had  opened  the  side 
door  and  was  out  in  the  garden.  The  early 
morning  air  was  full  of  the  scent  of  the  roses — his 
grandfather's  roses,  which  they  both  loved.  He 
was  sorry  to  leave  them,  and  somehow  they 
brought  the  thought  of  his  grandfather  very 
vividly  before  him.  He  could  imagine  the  old 
man  standing  among  them  and  wondering  what 
had  become  of  him.  He  was  sorry  to  leave — 
the.  roses. 

He  turned  resolutely  away  from  the  garden 
and  walked  out  of  the  gate,  It  would  not  do  to 
loiter,  or  he  would  be  seen  and  questioned  by  some 
of  the  early  risers  among  the  men.  He  considered 
that  he  had  a  perfect  right  to  go  if  he  wished,  but 
he  knew  that  such  a  departure  would  arouse 

14  207 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW. YORK 

curiosity,  and  his  grandfather  would  be  told,  and 
would  send  to  have  him  brought  back.  He 
would  not  come,  but  it  would  complicate  matters 
to  have  some  one  sent  for  him. 

The  boy's  serise  of  duty  was  in  a  curious  state 
of  indefiniteness.  He  had  never  known  of  his 
grandfather's  existence  until  one  year  ago.  For 
several  months  he  had  regarded  him  as  almost  a 
stranger,  and  then,  suddenly,  without  an  instant's 
preparation,  he  had  been  taken  complete  posses- 
sion of  by  General  Keith.  His  filial  affection, 
which  during  his  father's  lifetime  had  been  de- 
voted naturally  to  him,  was  now  to  be  completely 
reversed,  and  was  expected  to  be  even  more  en- 
tirely bestowed  upon  a  person  who,  he  had  just 
discovered,  was  unkind  to  his  father — who  wished 
him  to  be  unfaithful  to  his  father's  memory  by 
giving  up  his  name.  He  was  a  boy  of  a  deeply 
affectionate  and  faithful  nature.  He  loved  his 
grandfather,  but  it  was  a  recent  love.  That 
which  he  felt  for  the  memory  of  his  father  was 
the  outcome  of  the  tender  love  which  had  sur- 
rounded his  early  childhood.  They  had  been  so 
poor  together.  Love  had  been  all  they  owned, 
but  it  had  made  life  very  sweet.  Christopher 
vaguely  resented  his  father's  poverty  and  his 
grandfather's  wealth.  All  the  love  and  devotion 
that  he  could  give  now  were  due  the  memory  of 
his  father,  he  thought.  With  this  idea  he  forgot 

208 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

that  he  owed  anything  to  General  Keith — that 
though  he  might  be  right  in  the  matter  of  his 
name,  he  had  no  right  to  run  away  from  his 
home. 

As  he  passed  the  Toppan  Farm  he  almost  wish- 
ed that  some  of  his  friends  might  be  at  the  front 
of  the  house.  He  would  like  to  say  good-bye  to 
them  and  explain  that  he  was  going  off  to  earn 
his  living.  No  one  was  visible,  however,  for  Mr. 
Toppan  and  the  men  were  in  the  barn,  and  Mrs. 
Toppan  in  the  kitchen.  Early  though  it  was,  he 
knew  that  they  were  all  up  and  at  their  work. 
He  walked  on,  although  he  was  getting  tired  and 
the  station  was  yet  a  mile  away.  He  would  have 
liked  to  rest  a  minute  on  the  familiar  steps  of  the 
front  porch.  He  would  take  a  drink  of  water, 
however.  The  old  pump  was  close  to  the  road, 
and  on  the  top  of  it  was  the  cup  which  he  had  so 
often  filled  and  emptied.  The  water  was  deli- 
ciously  cool  and  refreshing,  and  his  long  drink 
revived  him.  He  replaced  the  cup  on  the  top 
of  the  pump,  and  again  shouldering  his  bag,  he 
walked  on.  He  saw  no  one  on  the  road  until  he 
turned  into  the  main  street  of  the  village.  The 
postmaster  was  sweeping  out  the  store,  but  he 
had  happened  to  pick  up  an  undelivered  letter 
that  was  lying  behind  a  barrel  by  the  door  just 
as  Chris  passed.  This  so  absorbed  his  attention 
that  he  ch'd  not  notice  the  boy  at  all. 

209 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

When  Christopher  at  last  reached  the  station 
he  found  it  locked  up.  His  watch  (the  gift  of  his 
grandfather  on  Christmas)  told  him  that  it  was 
now  only  a  quarter  past  five.  It  would  be  an 
hour  and  three-quarters  before  the  train  was  due. 
He  curled  himself  up  on  the  bench  that  stood  on 
the  platform  and  waited  as  patiently  as  he  could 
for  George  Smith  to  come. 

While  he  was  waiting  he  had  ample  time  for 
thought.  He  remembered  that  he  had  asked 
Betty  to  come  to  Keith  Hall  that  morning,  and 
she  had  promised  to  do  so.  He  had  not  expected 
then  to  be  leaving  so  soon,  for  when  he  saw 
George  yesterday  they  had  spoken  of  going  in 
a  day  or  two.  Something  must  have  occurred  to 
make  him  shorten  his  vacation.  Chris  had  a 
very  vague  idea  of  George's  duties,  and  he  sup- 
posed that  a  "railroad  man"  who  sold  papers 
had  vacations  as  well  as  other  professional  and 
business  men.  He  was  sorry  to  be  so  rude  to 
Betty,  and  no  one  would  be  able  to  explain  it,  for 
no  one  would  know  what  had  become  of  him. 
He  intended  to  write  to  his  grandfather  as  soon 
as  he  should  become  established  in  business. 
George  was  to  help  him  to  "a  job."  Until  then 
he  expected  to  live  on  the  money  he  had  with 
him;  this  amounted  to  about  eight  dollars.  He 
remembered  that  in  the  old  days  his  father  rarely 
had  that  much  money  in  his  possession  at  once. 
210 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

It  would  probably  be  sufficient,  therefore,  to  pro- 
vide him  with  food  and  lodging  for  a  long  time. 
He  looked  at  his  watch  again,  and  found  that 
fifteen  minutes  had  crept  slowly  by. 

He  began  to  wish  that  he  had  said  good-bye 
to  his  grandfather.  He  might  have  written  it 
on  a  paper  and  slipped  it  underneath  his  bedroom 
door.  If  he  had  some  paper  he  would  write  some- 
thing now.  The  station-master  was  good-natured 
and  a  friend  of  Christopher's,  and  he  would  see 
that  it  was  sent  to  General  Keith.  Chris  searched 
his  pockets  and  his  bag,  and  finally  found  an  old 
letter  in  his  bag  which  by  good  luck  was  already 
addressed  to  his  grandfather.  The  envelope 
would  do  as  it  was,  and  there  was  a  blank  page 
inside  the  sheet  upon  which  he  could  write  a  few 
words.  The  letter  was  one  which  General  Keith 
had  received  while  they  were  travelling,  in  regard 
to  an  old  violin  which  he  had  afterward  pur- 
chased for  his  grandson.  He  had  given  the  let- 
ter to  Chris  to  read,  and  had  told  him  to  keep  it 
for  the  present.  Afterward  they  had  looked  at 
and  bought  the  violin.  It  made  Chris  feel  sad 
to  read  this  letter.  Who  would  play  now  with 
grand?  And  he  himself  must  do  without  music 
for  the  present.  He  had  not  been  able  to  bring 
his  own  fiddle,  that  he  had  used  so  long,  before 
he  knew  his  grandfather,  for  he  could  not  carry 

so  much.    Perhaps  after  awhile,  when  he  had 
211 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

made  a  fortune  of  his  own,  he  could  go  and  visit 
his  grandfather,  who  by  that  time  would  have 
forgiven  him  for  running  away,  and  they  would 
resume  their  old  habits  of  playing  together.  He 
found  a  pencil,  and  wrote  the  following  note  on 
the  inner  page: 

"DEAR  GRANDFATHER, — I  am  sorry  to  go  without 
saying  good-bye  to  you,  but  I  have  to  take  the  early 
train,  and  so  there  was  not  much  time  to  write,  and  I 
was  afraid  you  would  stop  me  if  I  told  you  last  night, 
and  I  did  not  know  till  late  last  night,  after  I  had  gone 
to  bed,  that  I  was  going  to-day.  I  think  it  is  better  for 
me  to  earn  my  own  living,  because  I  don't  want  to  give 
up  father's  name.  I  know  you  will  excuse  me  please, 
and  I  thank  you  for  being  so  kind  to  me,  and  I  hope  you 
will  get  along  all  right  same  as  you  did  before  you 
found  me.  Good-bye. 

"Yours  truly,   your  grandson, 

"CHRISTOPHER  LOVEL." 

He  replaced  the  sheet  in  the  old  envelope,  which 
he  was  able  to  fasten  up,  and  waited  for  some  one 
to  come  to  whom  he  could  intrust  it. 

At  last  there  began  to  be  signs  of  life  at  the 
station.  Some  "drummers"  who  had  passed  the 
night  at  the  hotel  came  to  take  the  early  train. 
They  looked  curiously  at  the  fair-haired,  blue- 
eyed  boy  on  the  bench,  but  they  did  not  speak 
to  him,  and  he  did  not  notice  them  nor  another 

stranger  who  stood  near.    When  Sam  Wilson,  who 
212 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

never  allowed  a  train  to  pass  the  Maybury  Centre 
station  without  his  superintendence,  arrived  upon 
the  scene  his  surprise  at  seeing  Chris  among  the 
waiting  passengers  was  very  audibly  expressed. 

"Why,  what  are  you  doin'  here  at  this  time, 
Chris?"  he  demanded.  "Goin'  on  a  journey?" 

"Yes,"  said  Christopher. 

"Grandpa  goin',  too?" 

"Oh  no!" 

"Well,  I  want  to  know!    Whar  you  goin'?" 

"On  a  journey,"  said  Chris,  smiling  up  at  him. 
"Will  you  please  send  this  letter  to  my  grand- 
father?" As  he  had  managed  to  reseal  it,  it  was 
not  unlike  one  just  received  and  as  yet  unopened. 

"  Who'll  I  give  it  to  ?"  asked  Wilson.  "  I  guess 
you  don't  bank  on  my  walkin'  up  to  Keith  Hall 
and  deliverin'  it  to  the  old  gentleman  himself 
with  your  compliments?" 

"Oh  no!  Just  give  it  to  the  man  who  drives 
down  for  the  mail  this  morning.  I  shall  be  very 
much  obliged.  It's  important." 

"One  you  had  in  your  pocket  and  forgot  to 
give  him,  I  presume?" 

Sam's  interest  in  the  letter  overcame  for  a  time 
his  desire  to  know  Christopher's  destination,  and 
then,  as  something  occurred  to  attract  his  atten- 
tion to  the  group  of  travelling  men,  he  left  the 
boy,  and,  stuffing  the  letter  in  his  pocket,  walked 
over  to  join  them. 

213 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

At  last  George  Smith  came.  He  greeted  Chris 
in  his  usual  unenthusiastic  manner,  quite  as 
though  they  were  in  the  habit  of  travelling  to- 
gether every  day;  and  the  station  now  being  open 
and  the  window  of  the  ticket-office  raised  for  busi- 
ness, Chris  went  in  to  buy  a  ticket.  He  had  just 
accomplished  this,  and  had  returned  to  the  plat- 
form to  be  in  readiness  for  the  train  which  was 
now  almost  due,  when  the  Hamiltons'  carriage 
was  driven  up  very  hurriedly  to  the  other  side 
of  the  station.  In  it  were  Florence,  Betty,  the 
coachman,  and  two  trunks.  The  two  girls  jumped 
out  and  ran  into  the  station.  There  was  just  time 
to  buy  a  ticket  and  have  the  trunks  checked  when 
the  train  arrived. 

Betty  had  risen  early  for  the  fun  of  accompany- 
ing her  sister  to  the  seven-o'clock  train,  which 
Florence  was  obliged  to  take  in  order  to  make  her 
connections.  Full  of  importance  at  being  the  only 
one  of  the  family  to  see  Florence  off,  Betty  carried 
the  bag  and  umbrella,  and  devoted  herself  wholly 
to  her  sister's  welfare.  She  paid  little  attention 
to  any  one  else,  and  did  not  see  Christopher, 
who  stood  with  George  Smith  at  the  other  end  of 
the  platform  and  entered  the  last  car.  The  train 
began  to  move,  and  Betty,  vociferously  calling 
and  waving  her  farewells  to  Florence,  stood  back 
to  watch  it  go  by.  As  she  did  so  a  man  brushed 
against  her  and  swung  himself  on  to  the  car  that 

214 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

Florence  was  in.  She  looked  up  expecting  him 
to  apologize,  for  he  had  nearly  knocked  her  down 
in  his  haste.  He  turned  on  the  step  and  glanced 
at  her,  and  then  with  an  oath  that  was  plainly 
audible  he  disappeared  within  the  car.  But  not 
before  Betty  had  recognized  him.  She  had  a  keen 
eye  and  a  ready  memory.  She  knew  very  well 
that  the  man  with  the  enormous  ears  and  shifty 
eyes,  in  spite  of  the  disguise  of  a  newly  acquired 
beard  and  mustache,  was  none  other  than  the 
one  with  whom  she  and  Christopher  had  walked 
in  Hoboken.  What  could  he  have  been  doing  in 
May  bury?  And  where  had  she  recently  seen 
those  eyes  and  ears?  And  then,  just  as  the  last 
car  was  passing  her,  a  window  was  raised  and 
Christopher  Lovel  leaned  out. 

"Good-bye,  Betty!"  he  shouted.  "I'm  sorry 
I  couldn't  let  you  know  not  to  come.  Good-bye !" 

Betty  was  too  much  astonished  to  speak. 
Where  could  he  be  going?  Had  General  Keith 
again  decided  to  make  one  of  his  sudden  jour- 
neys? And  had  Chris  seen  the  man?  She 
waved  the  handkerchief  which  had  been  doing 
duty  for  Florence,  and  as  the  train,  moving 
now  with  increased  speed,  hastened  away  from 
Maybury  Centre,  she  could  see  something 
white  fluttering  from  a  window  of  the  last 
car. 

She  went  around  the  corner  of  the  station,  and 

215 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW   YORK 

was  just  getting  into  the  carriage  when  Sam 
Wilson  approached  her. 

"Say,"  said  he,  "I  guess  it's  a  little  mite  easier 
for  you  to  do  an  errand  for  Chris  than  it  is  for 
me.  He  wants  I  should  get  this  letter  to  his 
grandfther.  Will  you  give  it  to  him?" 

"Why,  wasn't  his  grandfather  with  him?" 
asked  Betty.  "Who  was  with  him?" 

"George  Smith." 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"Well,  young  lady,  I  presume  I  know  the  dif- 
ference between  General  Keith  and  George  Smith." 

"But  what  has  he  gone  away  with  George  Smith 
for?" 

"That's  more'n  I  know  or  he'd  tell,  and  I  guess, 
on  the  whole,  as  long  as  you're  so  surprised,  I'll 
undertake  to  deliver  this  here  letter  myself." 


XIV 

/GENERAL  KEITH  was  not  an  early  riser. 
\Jf  Neither  was  he  a  man  who  desired  the  com- 
panionship of  others  at  breakfast.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  bored  him  even  to  say  good-morning, 
and  it  was  a  distinct  relief  to  him  to  take  the  first 
meal  of  the  day  in  solitary  comfort.  It  frequently 
happened,  therefore,  that  Christopher,  who  had 
learned  his  grandfather's  habits  and  preferences 
very  quickly,  ate  his  breakfast  alone  at  an  earlier 
hour.  It  was  really  about  the  only  period  of  the 
day  when  he  could  do  precisely  as  he  wished, 
and  he  usually  availed  himself  of  the  privilege. 
So  it  was  not  in  the  least  surprising  that  he  did 
not  appear  at  the  breakfast-table;  he  had  prob- 
ably risen  early  this  fine  summer  morning,  and 
was  now  at  the  stable  with  his  pony  or  at  work 
in  his  garden.  The  boy's  absence  did  not  trouble 
General  Keith  in  the  least.  He  put  on  his  old 
straw  hat,  and  went  out  to  examine  the  rose- 
bushes. A  new  species  of  bug  was  giving  him 
trouble  this  year,  and  he  entered  into  a  long  con- 
sultation with  the  head  gardener.  That  over, 
217 


MISS    BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

the  coachman  wished  to  speak  to  him  about  one 
of  the  horses  which  had  mysteriously  gone  lame, 
and  which  required  immediate  attention  from  a 
more  skilful  practitioner  than  the  local  "vet." 
It  was  ten  o'clock  before  General  Keith  had  time 
to  wonder  where  Christopher  could  be.  He  was 
sitting  on  the  piazza  awaiting  the  bringing  of  the 
morning  mail  by  the  man  who  every  day  drove 
to  the  village  to  get  it,  when  it  occurred  to  him 
that  he  had  not  yet  seen  his  grandson.  He  was 
just  about  to  send  for  Thomas  to  ask  where  he 
was  when  that  faithful  attendant  appeared  from 
within  the  house. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Christopher?"  asked  the  General, 
quite  as  if  Thomas  had  him  hidden  in  his  pocket 
ready  to  be  produced  on  demand.  "I  wish  to 
speak  to  him  immediately." 

"I  don't  know  where  he  is,  General.  I  haven't 
seen  Mr.  Christopher  to-day." 

"Well,  I  suppose  some  one  has  seen  him.  At 
any  rate,  you  can  find  him.  Tell  him  we  will  have 
some  music — to  come  at  once." 

"Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  I  can't  find  him.  He 
ain't  nowhere,  sir." 

"What  nonsense  is  this,  Thomas?  Do  you 
mean  to  tell  me  that  the  boy  is  hiding?  What 
do  you  mean?  Eh?" 

It  was  evident  that  the  General  was  fast  los- 
ing his  easily  lost  temper.  Thomas  trembled,  but 

218 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

stood  his  ground.  The  boy  could  not  be  found, 
and  that  there  would  be  an  exciting  scene  with 
his  master  he  well  knew. 

"Well,  sir,  I  means  just  this:  he  ain't  nowhere 
on  the  place,  Mr.  Christopher  ain't.  He  ain't 
been  seen  by  nobody  to-day,  and,  what's  more, 
he  ain't  had  no  breakfast." 

"How  long  have  you  known  this ?  Why  wasn't 
I  told  at  once?"  The  General's  voice  was  omi- 
nously calm. 

"I've  come  to  tell  you,  sir,  as  soon  as  ever  I 
knowed  it.  I  thought  Mr.  Chris  had  had  his 
breakfast  early  and  gone  off  to  play  or  something, 
same  as  he  always  does,  but  I  kinder  got  uneasy, 
and  a  little  while  ago  I  went  all  round  looking 
and  couldn't  find  him  nowhere.  Then  I  asked 
Mrs.  Adams,  and  she  hadn't  laid  eyes  on  him, 
and  neither  had  any  of  the  maids,  nor  anybody 
else.  It  might  be,  sir,  if  I  may  make  so  bold  as 
to  suggest  it,  that  he's  gone  over  through  the 
woods  to  Mr.  Hamilton's  place." 

"Send  a  man  over  there  at  once  to  find  out. 
The  boy  ought  not  to  go  without  asking  my  per- 
mission; but — but —  Well,  very  probably  he  is 
there.  Another  time  don't  be  so  slow  about  find- 
ing out  his  absence,  Thomas.  This  must  not 
occur  again.  You  understand  me?  It  is  your 
business  to  know  where  Mr.  Christopher  is  at  any 
moment  I  may  choose  to  ask." 

219 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

"Yes,  sir.    Very  good,  sir." 

Thomas  retired,  feeling  rather  relieved  at  being 
dismissed  from  the  presence  in  so  mild  a  manner. 
Tn  a  short  time  a  groom  drove  away  in  the  run- 
about, with  instructions  to  go  to  Mr.  Hamilton's 
and  bring  Christopher  home. 

The  carriage  had  scarcely  disappeared  over  the 
road  when  Betty  Hamilton,  followed  by  Brownie, 
approached  the  house  by  the  path  which  led  from 
Pringle  Farm  to  Keith  Hall  through  the  woods. 
She  had  been  walking  rapidly,  and  her  cheeks 
were  flushed  with  the  heat  and  her  curly  hair  lay 
in  damp  masses  about  her  face.  It  was  another 
hot  day,  and  she  had  hurried.  She  went  straight 
to  the  front  piazza,  where  she  found  her  friend, 
the  General,  as  she  expected.  They  had  been  on 
terms  of  cordiality  all  summer,  which  had  been 
disturbed  only  temporarily  by  the  visit  to  the 
circus,  and  Betty  was  one  of  the  small  number  of 
persons  who  were  not  afraid  of  him. 

"Good-morning,  General  Keith,"  said  she. 

"Good-morning,  Miss  Betty.  So  you  have 
brought  home  that  young  scamp.  Did  he  send 
you  ahead  to  make  his  excuses?  I  suppose  he 
has  been  breakfasting  with  you." 

"If  you  mean  Chris,  he  hasn't  been  breakfast- 
ing with  us  at  all." 

"He  hasn't!    Well,   he   doesn't   deserve   any 

breakfast.    But  I  don't  like  his  taking  such  a 
220 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

long  walk  over  and  back  without  food.  I  have 
sent  a  man  over  to  your  place  to  bring  him  back, 
and  now  he  has  missed  him.  As  long  as  he  went 
he  ought  to  have  stayed  longer.  Why  doesn't  he 
come  forward  like  a  man?  Has  he  sent  you  to 
get  his  scolding?" 

"Chris  isn't  here,  General  Keith.  I  came  to 
ask  you  where  he  had  gone.  He  didn't  tell  me,  he 
just  shouted  out  good-bye  as  the  train  was  mov- 
ing. I  thought,  of  course,  you  were  with  him  till 
Sam  Wilson  told  me  you  weren't." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  General 
Keith.  He  sat  forward,  his  eyes  fixed  eagerly 
upon  Betty,  his  hands  trembling  as  he  grasped 
the  arms  of  his  chair  to  steady  them.  "The 
train  moving — what  train?" 

"Why,  the  seven  o'clock.  I  went  to  see  Flor- 
ence off,  and  we  were  so  late  we  didn't  get  there 
till  the  train  was  almost  there ;  and  after  she  got 
on  and  it  was  going  I  saw  Chris." 

"You  have  made  a  mistake,  Miss  Betty — a 
very  great  mistake.  My  grandson  was  not  on 
the  train  which  left  Maybury  at  seven  o'clock 
this  morning.  Impossible!  Preposterous!  Per- 
fectly preposterous!" 

"Oh,  but  he  was,  General  Keith!  I  should 
think  I  knew  Chris !  He  saw  me  before  I  saw  him, 
and  he  opened  the  window  and  called  out  good- 
bye and  he  was  sorry  to  go  without  seeing  me, 
221 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

or  something  like  that.  You  know  I  was  coming 
over  here  this  morning  to  play  with  him,  and  he 
hadn't  let  me  know  not  to  come.  I  thought  you 
were  with  him,  but  they  told  me  afterward  you 
weren't." 

"But  —  but  —  where  has  he — where  has  he 
gone?"  The  General's  voice  shook.  He  could 
scarcely  control  it. 

"I  don't  know.  That's  just  what  I  came  over 
to  find  out." 

"Was  he  alone?" 

"No,"  said  Betty,  slowly,  "I  don't  think  he 
was  alone." 

"Whom  was  he  with?  Speak!  Don't  keep 
me  waiting  like  this!" 

But  still  Betty  hesitated.  She  did  not  want 
to  tell  General  Keith  that  Chris  had  gone  away 
with  George  Smith.  George  had  formerly  borne 
a  bad  name  in  the  village.  To  be  sure,  that  was 
now  a  thing  of  the  past,  and  George  had  been 
found  to  be  of  respectable  family,  and  at  present, 
according  to  Christopher  and  his  sister  Lucy,  was 
making  a  fortune;  but  she  remembered  the  prej- 
udice. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  not  answering  me,  Miss 
Betty?  I  insist  upon  your  telling  me  at  once." 

"I  didn't  see  who  it  was,"  said  she,  at  last. 
"I  didn't  see  anybody  with  Chris.  I  thought 

you  were  with  him." 

222 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

"But  why  has  he  gone?"  asked  the  General, 
forgetting  for  the  moment  the  identity  of  his 
mysterious  companion.  "And  where?  Can  he 
have  gone  to  South  Maybury?  Why  didn't  he 
take  a  horse  if  he  wanted  to  go  to  South  May- 
bury?  Ah,  who  is  this  coming?  Oh,  it  is  only 
Hawkins  with  the  mail,  and  some  one  he  has 
picked  up." 

"It  is  Sam  Wilson,"  said  Betty,  watching  the 
approaching  carriage.  "Sam  Wilson  can  tell  you 
whom  Chris  was  with.  He  was  at  the  station, 
too." 

The  carriage  drove  up  to  the  steps  and  Sam 
Wilson  clambered  down.  The  coachman  was 
about  to  drive  around  to  the  back  door,  where 
he  would  deliver  the  mail  to  Thomas,  who  would 
in  turn  bring  it  to  his  master,  when  General  Keith 
ordered  him  to  wait.  He  had  recovered  his  self- 
possession,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  weakness 
now,  as  he  stood  on  the  upper  step  and  awaited 
what  news  the  stranger  might  give  him. 

"I  understand,  sir,  from  this  young  lady,  that 
you  saw  my  grandson  leave  Maybury  this  morn- 
ing. He  omitted  to  tell  me  that  he  was  taking 
a  journey.  Will  you  have  the  goodness  to  tell 
me  with  whom  he  went?" 

All  the  village  stood  in  awe  of  General  Keith. 
He  was  their  one  "great  man,"  and  was  respected 
accordingly.  Sam  Wilson,  describing  the  inter- 
is  223 


MISS  BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

view  later  to  his  intimates,  declared  that  he  "was 
floored,  clean  floored,"  whatever  that  might  mean. 
As  he  had  come  expressly  to  impart  the  informa- 
tion for  which  he  had  just  been  asked,  his  em- 
barrassment was  somewhat  unreasonable.  He 
hesitated,  cleared  his  throat  twice,  and  remained 
speechless. 

"Oh,  do  hurry  up,  Mr.  Wilson,"  said  Betty, 
impatiently.  "Don't  you  see  we've  got  to  find 
out  quickly  about  Chris?  Where  is  the  letter  he 
gave  you?" 

"A  letter!"  exclaimed  General  Keith.  "Do 
you  mean  to  say  you  have  a  letter  for  me  which 
he  gave  you?  The  train,  I  understand,  left  May- 
bury  Centre  at  seven  o'clock.  It  is  now" — he 
opened  and  closed  his  watch — "twenty-seven 
minutes  past  ten.  Will  you  have  the  goodness  to 
give  me  that  letter?  WTiat  excuse  can  you  pos- 
sibly have  for  not  delivering  it  earlier?" 

"See  here,  General,"  drawled  Sam  Wilson, 
stung  into  finding  his  voice  at  last,  "I  ain't  no 
letter-carrier,  nor  I  ain't  no  errand-boy.  I  d' 
know  as  I  hev  any  call  to  tramp  out  here  from 
the  village  just  because  a  boy  of  twelve  years  old 
chooses  to  give  me  a  letter  addressed  to  you." 

"No,  I  suppose  not,  I  suppose  not,"  said  the 
General,  recollecting  his  old  grudge  against  the 
slowness  of  the  Northern  rustic.  "But  as  you  are 
now  here,  kindly  give  me  the  letter." 

224 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

Sam  felt  in  his  pockets  and  finally  produced 
it.  The  General  looked  at  it  in  some  surprise  and 
with  visible  disappointment.  This  was  not  Chris- 
topher's handwriting.  He  opened  it  and  found 
it  was  the  old  letter  about  the  violin.  He  tossed 
it  on  the  ground  with  a  gesture  of  impatience. 
The  three  persons  who  were  curiously  watching 
him  were  astonished. 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  boy  means  by  sending 
that  to  me,"  said  he.  "Did  he  give  you  no 
message?" 

"Not  a  word." 

"And  whom  was  he  with?" 

"Well,"  said  Sam  Wilson,  drawling  more  slow- 
ly and  more  aggravatingly  than  ever,  "he  was 
with  a  feller  that  I  ain't  never  cottoned  to.  Not 
but  what  he  mightn't  be  all  right;  I  don't  say 
he  ain't.  But  he's  a  feller  that  ain't  had  many 
friends  up  this  way,  and  he  ain't  likely  to  unless 
he  gets  a  tiny  mite  more  what  you  might  call 
affable.  I  don't  say  he  ain't  honest;  I  don't 
say  he  ain't  what  you  might  call  straight.  But  he 
ain't  never  been  a  favorite  of  mine — no,  nor  of 
anybody  else's,  so  far  as  I  can  make  out.  He — " 

"Will  you  have  the  goodness  to  tell  me," 
broke  in  the  General — and  never  had  his  voice 
been  more  chilling  and  distinct — "the  name  of 
this  person?" 

Sam   Wilson   again   became  silent.    The  icy 

225 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

voice  of  the  great  man  froze  the  speech  on  his 
own  lips. 

"Oh,  goody!"  exclaimed  Betty,  "I'll  tell  you, 
General  Keith.  It  was  George  Smith.  Don't 
you  know? — Miss  Lucetta  Smith's  nephew.  She 
lives  in  the  house  with  the  wire  netting,  only 
they've  taken  it  down  now." 

"George  Smith !"  repeated  the  General.  "Where 
have  I  heard  the  name  of  George  Smith?  Did 
Christopher  know  him?" 

"Oh  yes.  He  is  a  newsboy  on  the  trains  from 
Boston.  Chris  knows  him  quite  well.  He  met 
him  the  day  you  came  up.  He  told  me  about  it." 

" So  he  did.  He  met  him  the  day  we  came  up." 
The  old  man  repeated  the  words  vaguely.  Then 
he  recollected  himself.  "Thank  you,  Miss  Betty. 
And  I  am  also  much  obliged  to  you,  sir.  Haw- 
kins, drive  this  gentleman  back  to  the  village — 
at  once,  if  you  please." 

And  before  the  deliberate  Sam  realized  what 
was  happening  he  was  again  in  the  carriage,  and 
was  being  rapidly  taken  home  without  having 
discovered  half  the  information  he  had  hoped  for; 
but  he  had  enough  as  it  was  to  arrest  the  atten- 
tion of  his  intimates,  who  were  awaiting  him  on 
the  porch  in  front  of  the  store,  and  before  long 
the  departure  of  Chris  was  known  to  most  of 
the  residents  of  Maybury  Centre. 

Betty  and  the  General,  left  alone  together  on 

226 


MISS    BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

the  steps  of  the  piazza,  for  a  moment  did  not 
speak.  Then  the  old  man  turned  slowly  and 
looked  down  at  the  little  girl. 

"Miss  Betty/'  said  he,  "I  beg  you  to  speak  to 
me  with  perfect  candor.  You  are  my  grandson's 
friend.  Perhaps,  and  very  probably,  you  enjoy 
more  of  his  confidence  than  I  do.  Have  you  any 
idea  of  where  he  has  gone?" 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea,  General  Keith,"  said 
Betty,  eagerly.  "I  never  supposed  he  would  do 
that." 

Her  intonation,  the  emphasis  she  laid  on  the 
word  "that,"  something  in  her  face,  caused  him 
to  look  at  her  more  closely.  "Did  you  have 
reason  to  suppose  he  would  do  anything?  Come, 
have  the  goodness  to  tell  me  what  you  do  know!" 

"Why,  I  don't  really  know  anything,  General 
Keith,  except,  of  course,  we've  all  noticed  some- 
thing has  been  the  matter  with  Chris  lately.  He 
hasn't  been  half  so — well,  so  jolly  as  he  used  to 
be.  You  know  he  always  was  so  sort  of  happy. 
He's  been  quiet,  and  kind  of  worried." 

' '  And  why  has  he  been  worried  ?  What  earthly 
reason  could  my  grandson  have  for  being  worried, 
I  should  like  to  know?"  The  General  was  now 
walking  up  and  down  the  piazza. 

"I  suppose — "  began  Betty,  and  then  she  was 
silent. 

"Well,  well,  you  suppose  what?" 

227 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

"I'm  afraid  you — you  would  rather  I  didn't 
say." 

"What  nonsense!  Say  anything  if  it  will  give 
me  the  slightest  clew  to  the  boy's  extraordinary 
action.  Not  but  what  I  expect  him  back  by  the 
next  train.  I  do  not  for  a  moment  imagine  that 
he  has  gone  with  any  intention  of  staying  over- 
night. But  what  do  you  think  he  has  been  anx- 
ious about?" 

"Well,"  said  Betty,  "it  was  that  day  when  he 
was  over  at  our  house,  the  day  we  went  to  the 
circus  afterward.  We  were  playing  Indians  and 
were  hiding,  and  no  one  knew  we  were  there,  and 
we  heard  Florence  and  one  of  her  friends  talking, 
and — and — he  didn't  like  what  was  said  about 
you  and  his  father  and  mother.  That  was  the 
reason  we  went  over  to  South  Maybury.  He 
wanted  to  go  off  somewhere." 

The  General  came  and  stood  beside  her. 
"What  was  said?"  His  voice  was  very  quiet. 

Betty  suddenly  felt  like  crying.  What  could 
she  say?  How  could  she  explain  the  conversa- 
tion they  had  overheard?  Why  did  General 
Keith  look  so  still  ?  Instinctively  she  thrust  her 
hand  into  his,  she  felt  so  very  sorry. 

"Will  you  please  tell  me?  Tell  me  just  what 
the  boy  heard." 

"They  told  about  his  father  and  mother  being 
so  poor,  and  that  you  hadn't  tried  to  find  him 

228 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

until  it  was  too  late  to  help  them.  Of  course,  it 
may  not  have  been  true.  Chris  seemed  to  feel 
very  badly  about  it.  His  face  got  all  white  and 
queer,  and  he  wouldn't  play  any  more.  We  went 
to  South  Maybury,  and  he  seemed  to  forget  it 
for  a  little  while,  but  he's  never  been  the  same 
since.  He  has  been  sort  of — sort  of  queer.  I 
told  him  not  to  mind  so  much." 

"Ah!"  said  the  General.  Then,  after  a  mo- 
ment: "Thank  you,  Miss  Betty.  That,  and  the 
name,  I  suppose  —  that,  and  the  name."  He 
began  again  to  walk  up  and  down.  "But  with- 
out a  word  to  me!  To  go  off  even  for  the  day 
without  saying  good-bye!" 

"Didn't  he  say  good-bye  in  that  letter?"  asked 
Betty,  her  glance  falling  on  the  sheet  which,  with 
its  envelope,  lay  upon  the  grass  where  it  had  flut- 
tered in  the  soft  summer  breeze. 

"Not  a  word  of  it.  It  is  a  letter  written  by 
some  one  else — an  old  letter.  I  can't  imagine  what 
he  meant  by  sending  that  man  up  here  with  it." 

"May  I  look  at  it?" 

"Of  course.    It  is  only  about  a  violin." 

Betty  procured  the  letter,  and  read  the  first 
page  carefully.  Then  she  turned  it  and  gave  a 
sudden  exclamation.  "Here  is  something  from 
Chris,  General  Keith!  He  has  written  on  the 
inside!" 

The  General  seized  the  paper  and  scanned  it 

229 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

closely.  Then  he  gave  it  back  to  her.  "Read  it 
to  me,"  he  said.  "I  can't  see — something  wrong 
with  my  glasses — read  it  to  me." 

Betty  read  the  note  slowly  and  distinctly.  Not 
a  word  was  said  by  either  when  she  finished.  She 
glanced  timidly  at  General  Keith.  Even  Betty 
felt  a  new  timidity.  She  had  never  before  been 
in  the  presence  of  acute  mental  suffering.  It 
was  several  minutes  before  either  spoke.  At  last 
the  General  turned  toward  the  house. 

"I  must  go  to  get  him/'  he  said,  slowly.  "I 
must  go  after  my  little  boy.  Thank  you,  Miss 
Betty — I  thank  you  very  much." 

He  was  about  to  enter  the  house  when  Betty 
remembered  one  very  important  fact  which  she 
had  not  yet  communicated  to  him — at  least,  her 
mother  thought  it  was  important,  and  had  been 
very  much  disturbed  when  she  heard  it. 

"Wait  a  minute,  General  Keith,"  said  Betty. 
"That  man  was  on  the  same  train  with  Chris." 

"What  man?" 

"The  one  who  tried  to  run  away  with  us  in 
Hoboken.  That  man,  don't  you  know,  who  came 
up  to  us  in  the  Jersey  City  station!" 

"He  was  on  the  train  this  morning!"  The 
General  turned  and  came  back  to  her.  He  was 
as  much  impressed  by  her  announcement  as  her 
mother  had  been.  "Was  Christopher  with  him ?" 

"Oh  no!    He  went  into  another  car.    He  may 

230 


MISS    BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

not  even  have  seen  Chris.  I  shouldn't  have  seen 
him  if  he  hadn't  almost  knocked  me  down  hurry- 
ing to  get  on.  I  think  he  must  have  been  late 
getting  there,  he  was  in  such  a  terrible  hurry.  He 
was  mad  because  I  was  in  his  way,  and  I  was 
mad,  too.  He  must  be  a  very  bad  person,  for  he 
said  an  awful  swear  word." 

"Do  you  think  he  recognized  you?" 

"Oh  yes,  indeed  he  did!  That's  the  reason 
he  was  so  furious.  And  I  knew  him  right  away, 
though  he  looks  different.  He  has  a  beard  now — 
a  sort  of  a  false-looking,  dark  beard.  And  I  think 
he's  the  same  man  we  saw  at  the  circus,  only  he 
had  a  lot  of  yellow  hair  then.  He  was  doing 
tricks." 

"Even  if  he  did  not  see  Christopher  before  he 
got  on  the  train  he  will  certainly  find  him  there 
before  they  go  far.  I  feel  very  much  disturbed 
by  what  you  have  told  me,  Miss  Betty.  I  can- 
not help  connecting  my  boy's  departure  in  some 
way  with  this  man.  It  is  extraordinary  that  he 
should  have  been  in  Maybury.  Why  should  he 
come  to  this  out-of-the-way  spot  unless  for  some 
mischief?  You  say  you  saw  him  at  the  circus?" 

"Yes;  only  I  wasn't  sure  of  it  then,  but  I  am 
now.  I  knew  he  was  the  '  Fascinating  Fernando,' 
but  Chris  didn't  notice  that  he  looked  like  the 
Hoboken  man." 

"Do  you  think  he  remembered  you?" 

231 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

"I  don't  know.  He  disappeared  behind  the 
curtain  just  as  I  was  watching  his  face." 

Unconsciously  the  General  was  consulting  with 
Betty  quite  as  if  she  were  a  grown  woman.  She 
was  not  unaware  of  his  attitude,  and  was  much 
pleased.  It  always  delighted  Betty  to  be  treated 
in  this  manner.  She  only  wished  that  Charles 
and  Pauline  were  there  to  hear  him.  They  would 
never  believe  it  unless  they  heard  it  themselves. 
It  seemed  a  direct  answer  to  her  wish,  therefore, 
when  at  that  very  moment  Charles  himself  drove 
up  the  avenue.  In  the  carriage  were  her  mother 
and  Pauline. 

"I  could  not  help  coming  over  to  see  you, 
General  Keith,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  as  they  drew 
up  at  the  steps,  "I  feel  so  anxious  about  that 
man  having  been  in  Maybury.  Betty  has  told 
you,  I  suppose.  No,  I  will  not  get  out,  thank 
you.  I  came  to  see  if — "  She  paused,  not  know- 
ing exactly  what  to  say.  She  as  yet  knew  only 
the  bare  fact  of  Christopher  having  left  home 
with  George  Smith,  on  the  same  train  with  a 
man  who  had  already  tried  before  this  to  abduct 
him.  She  did  not  know  whether  or  not  his  grand- 
father had  been  aware  of  the  boy's  intended  jour- 
ney, but  she  thought  it  was  highly  probable  that 
he  had  not. 

The  General  finished  her  sentence  for  her.  "If 
I  knew  about  Christopher  —  where  Christopher 

232 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

has  gone?  No,  Mrs.  Hamilton,  I  do  not.  At 
first  I  was  inclined  to  believe  that  he  had  gone  to 
South  Maybury  or  somewhere  equally  near,  but 
now  I  do  not.  I  shall  go  after  him  at  once.  I 
only  wish  I  had  some  means  of  identifying  that 
scoundrel.  I  may  pass  him  twenty  times  in  my 
search  without  knowing  it." 

Betty  made  a  step  forward.  "Oh!"  she  ex- 
claimed, impulsively,  and  looked  from  the  Gen- 
eral to  her  mother,  and  then  at  the  General  again. 
"Couldn't  I  —  oh,  mamma,  do  you  suppose  I 
could?  General  Keith,  couldn't  you  take  me 
with  you?  I  could  help  you  find  him.  I  should 
know  him  right  away,  just  as  I  did  this  morning." 

"You!  Oh,  my  dear  child,  I  couldn't  let  you!" 
cried  Mrs.  Hamilton. 

"Betty!"  exclaimed  Charles  and  Pauline  tx> 
gether. 

But  the  General  did  not  join  in  the  chorus  of 
disapproval.  On  the  contrary,  his  face  brightened. 

"Is  it  quite  out  of  the  question,  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton?" he  asked.  "I  should  take  very  good  care 
of  her,  and  I  should  like  to  have  her  with  mev 
She  would  be  in  no  danger.  Thomas  will  be  with 
me  and  will  look  after  her,  and  you  can  send  a 
maid.  I  believe  if  we  want  to  secure  that  man 
it  is  the  only  thing  we  can  do  to  identify  him — 
and  —  Mrs.  Hamilton,  even  now  he  may  have 
succeeded  in  getting  possession  of  Christopher. 

233 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

I  beg  you  to  allow  me  the  privilege  of  Miss  Betty's 
company.  I  will  take  very  good  care  of  her." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence,  broken  only 
by  a  little  song-sparrow,  which  was  perched  on 
a  bush  near  the  porch,  and  the  impatient  stamp- 
ing of  the  horse  on  the  gravel  driveway.  Betty 
gazed  imploringly  at  her  mother. 

"Do  let  me,  mamma!"  she  said,  at  last.  "It 
seems  as  if  we  ought  to  help  all  we  can." 

"I  cannot  say  yes  without  consulting  her 
father,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  at  last.  "If  you 
will  wait  long  enough  for  me  to  send  a  telegram 
and  get  a  reply,  I  will  agree  to  do  as  he  says." 

"I  shall  be  deeply  grateful  to  you,  and  will 
willingly  wait.  It  will  not  be  necessary  to  leave 
within  less  than  two  hours,  at  any  rate,"  said  the 
General,  looking  at  his  watch.  "There  is  nothing 
more  from  here  until  five  o'clock  this  afternoon; 
but  there  is  a  train  that  passes  Kingford  at  two 
o'clock,  due  in  Boston  at  a  quarter  of  four.  We 
are  too  late  now  to  catch  the  twelve-fifteen  at 
Kingford.  That  gets  in  at  one-fifty-five,  but  we 
are  twenty  miles  away,  and  we  can't  do  it  in 
an  hour.  It  is  a  quarter  of  eleven  now.  In  the 
mean-time  I  will  send  Thomas  to  the  hotel  to  see 
if  any  suspicious  character  has  been  staying  there. 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  if  you  will  lend  me  Miss  Betty  for 
this  journey,  you  will  have  my  undying  gratitude 
and  friendship.  It  may  come  to  nothing.  I  may 

234 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

have  lost  him  again,  but  you  will  have  helped 
me." 

He  turned  away,  unable  to  command  his  voice, 
and,  signing  to  Betty  to  get  into  the  carriage, 
Mrs.  Hamilton  told  Charles  to  drive  quickly  to 
the  village  that  she  migau  telegraph  to  his  father. 


IT  is  probable  that  Christopher  Lovel  would 
never  have  carried  out  his  half-formed  inten- 
tion of  leaving  his  grandfather's  home  had  not 
George  Smith  visited  Maybury  Centre  at  just  that 
time.  The  boy's  whole  mind  and  nature  were  in 
a  state  of  indecision  and  unrest,  for  in  addition  to 
the  sense  of  injury  which  he  felt  in  regard  to  his 
father,  he  had  begun  to  resent,  although  uncon- 
sciously, the  lack  of  independent  action  which 
General  Keith  insisted  upon.  He  was  still  very 
childish  in  many  ways,  but  he  was  growing  older. 
He  wished  to  be  older;  he  felt  an  intense  desire 
to  assert  himself,  to  act  like  a  man.  There  seem- 
ed to  be  no  surer  way  of  accomplishing  this  than 
to  run  away  and  earn  his  own  living.  It  is  prob- 
able that  all  boys  feel  this  longing  for  freedom 
at  times;  it  is  part  of  their  development.  In 
Christopher's  case  there  was  much  to  foster  the 
feeling,  little  to  restrain  it. 

And  just  at  this  critical  moment  George  Smith 
appeared  in  Maybury — George  Smith,  who  repre- 
sented to  Christopher  the  personification  of  suc- 

236 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

cess  in  the  matter  of  earning  one's  living  at  an 
early  age.  It  seemed  most  opportune.  Chris  had 
seen  George  in  the  village  on  the  day  of  his  return 
to  Maybury.  He  had  questioned  him  closely,  and 
finally  had  said  that  he  wished  to  try  the  same 
line  of  work  himself.  Could  George  help  him  to 
get  a  place?  George  had  been  rather  discourag- 
ing at  first.  He  had  advised  him  to  stay  where 
he  was,  and  had  told  him  that  he  would  "take 
no  hand"  in  helping  him  to  leave  his  home.  The 
two  boys  were  in  front  of  the  Maybury  House, 
the  one  hotel  of  the  village,  when  they  had  this 
conversation.  Chris  was  on  his  pony,  and  Ben, 
the  groom,  had  taken  the  opportunity  to  seek  an 
acquaintance  in  the  hotel  while  his  young  master 
talked  with  his  friend.  When  Ben  came  out  he 
was  accompanied  by  a  man  who  had  arrived  at 
the  hotel  the  night  before,  and  who  was  already 
popular  there.  The  stranger,  who  had  entered  his 
name  as  W.  Banks,  of  New  York,  was  apparent- 
ly an  old  friend  of  Ben's.  As  they  stood  together 
on  the  steps  of  the  hotel  Mr.  Banks  casually  asked 
the  name  of  the  "young  fellow"  who  was  talking 
to  "young  Lovel,"  and  Ben  was  able  to  give  him 
the  necessary  information  with  much  in  addition. 
Mr.  Banks  watched  Christopher  and  the  groom 
ride  away,  and  then  he  sauntered  up  the  road  in 
the  direction  in  which  George  had  gone.  A  few 
minutes  later,  as  George  seemed  to  be  walking 

237 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

slowly,  he  quickened  his  pace  until  he  had  over- 
taken the  boy  and  greeted  him  cordially.  He 
asked  him  a  civil  question  or  two  about  the 
country,  and  in  a  very  short  time  had  renewed 
the  acquaintance  formed  at  the  circus  and  which 
bade  fair  to  become  intimate.  George  had  few 
friends  in  Maybury,  but  he  was  not  by  nature 
unsociable.  If  any  one  showed  a  desire  to  be 
friendly  he  was  ready  to  respond,  but  he  was 
equally  quick  to  resent  a  fancied  slight.  The 
result  of  their  walk  together  was  that  Mr.  Banks 
soon  learned  all  that  there  was  to  be  known  about 
Christopher's  wish  to  leave  home  and  make  his 
fortune,  and  George's  own  prospects  of  the  same 
happy  result  for  himself  if  he  could  find  the  right 
thing.  Was  there  any  chance  for  him  in  circus 
work? 

Mr.  Banks  was  apparently  of  a  most  optimistic 
turn  of  mind.  He  declared  that  selling  books  and 
papers  on  the  train  was  a  profession  that  held 
promise  of  most  desirable  results.  He  himself 
was  deeply  interested  in  "young  fellows,"  and 
his  business  now  was  such  that  he  employed  a 
number.  He  did  not  go  into  particulars  as  to 
the  nature  of  his  business.  He  had  left  the  circus 
himself  for  something  else,  and  he  was  at  that 
moment  looking  out  for  a  boy  to  do  office  work. 
The  salary  was  not  much  at  first,  but  faithful 
attention  was  sure  to  be  rewarded.  He  had  liked 

238 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

the  looks  of  young  Lovel,  and  if  George  chose  to 
do  so  he  could  bring  him  to  Boston,  and  Mr. 
Banks  would  interview  him  there  and  explain 
what  he  needed. 

"Better  not  say  anything  to  him  now.  If  he 
feels  that  he'd  like  train  work  it  might  upset  him 
to  think  about  office  work  till  he  got  there.  Just 
tell  him  you  have  a  friend  who  can  help  him  to 
a  place.  You  needn't  mention  my  name  —  it's 
Banks,  by-the-way — and  if  you  should  see  me  on 
the  train  you  needn't  say  you  know  me.  Kids — 
little  ones — is  queer  cattle,  and  he'll  be  kind  of 
upset,  anyway,  running  away  from  home.  I'll 
make  it  all  smooth  for  you  if  he's  the  boy  I  want 
for  my  work,  as  I  think  he  is.  You'll  get  ten  per 
cent,  of  the  deal." 

George  did  not  clearly  understand  this  offer, 
but  hesitated  to  acknowledge  an  ignorance  of 
which  he  felt  somewhat  ashamed.  It  was  evi- 
dently an  affair  of  business,  a  common  trans- 
action with  which  he  was  expected  to  be  familiar. 
He  certainly  would  ask  no  questions  that  might 
expose  him  to  ridicule.  He  was  in  great  fear  of 
ridicule.  He  agreed,  therefore,  to  everything  that 
was  suggested,  and  when  he  saw  Christopher  that 
afternoon  he  told  him  that  if  he  really  wished 
to  go,  he,  George,  could  help  him  to  "a  job." 
Mr.  Banks  informed  George  that  same  evening 
that  it  would  be  to  the  advantage  of  all  parties 

I6  239 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

if  they  left  Maybury  the  following  morning,  so 
George  walked  up  to  Keith  Hall  and  told  Chris- 
topher, with  the  result  that  we  have  seen.  The 
three  left  Maybury  on  the  same  train,  but  without 
the  slightest  sign  of  recognition  having  been  ex- 
changed by  Mr.  Banks  and  George.  It  was  a 
distinct  shock  to  Mr.  Banks  when  he  encountered 
the  keen  eyes  of  Miss  Betty  Hamilton,  of  New 
York.  He  saw  at  once  that  she  remembered  him, 
and  he  congratulated  himself  more  than  once 
during  the  journey  to  Boston  that  she  had  not 
discovered  him  sooner.  It  convinced  him  that 
he  would  better  accomplish  his  scheme  of  abduct- 
ing Christopher  if  he  kept  entirely  out  of  his  way 
for  the  present.  Once  get  the  boy  to  a  large 
city,  and  he  could  easily  manage  it  without  danger 
of  discovery.  And  then  it  would  be  a  simple 
matter  to  make  known  to  the  rich  old  General 
that  a  large  sum  of  money  would  restore  to  him 
his  grandson.  Mr.  W.  Banks  had  long  cherished 
this  ambition.  When  he  was  thwarted  in  its  ac- 
complishment in  Hoboken  he  had  by  no  means 
acknowledged  himself  beaten.  On  the  contrary, 
he  became  more  than  ever  determined  to  carry  it 
to  a  successful  finish.  He  considered  it  not  only 
an  easy  but  an  interesting  method  of  fortune- 
making — far  more  attractive  than  the  profes- 
sion of  "clerking"  or  "counter-jumping"  or  other 
humdrum  but  honest  means  of  livelihood,  or  the 

240 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

more  exciting  profession  of  wriggling  out  of  ropes 
at  a  circus,  and  more  sure  of  good  results  than 
counterfeiting  and  safe-smashing,  which  he  had 
also  tried. 

"The  old  man  will  give  at  least  a  million  to  get 
the  kid  back,"  he  said  to  himself,  "and  it  will  be 
to  his  interest  to  keep  it  dark.  I'm  a  made  man 
this  time.  It's  wonderful  how  things  have  just 
worked  right.  Smith's  an  easy  one.  Everything 
going  as  slick  and  smooth  as  silk." 

But  once  more  Mr.  Banks  had  reckoned  without 
Miss  Betty  of  New  York. 

Christopher  and  George  Smith,  seated  together 
in  the  rear  car  of  a  train  that  consisted  at  present 
of  only  two  passenger  coaches  and  one  combina- 
tion smoking  and  baggage  car,  had  little  to  say 
to  each  other  until  some  miles  of  their  journey 
had  been  travelled.  George  was  not  a  very 
talkative  person  at  any  time,  and  Chris,  this  morn- 
ing, had  so  much  to  occupy  his  mind  that  he,  too, 
was  very  silent.  As  the  train  began  to  move,  as 
it  left  the  familiar  Maybury  Centre  station,  and 
approaching  the  lake  with  a  shrill  shriek  for  the 
grade  crossing  that  was  to  be  passed,  with  rapidly 
increasing  speed  rumbled  over  the  trestle  and  flew 
along  the  embankment  where  Chris  and  Betty 
and  Lucy  Smith  had  met  with  an  exciting  advent- 
ure last  summer — as  he  felt  himself  being  carried 
away  from  the  well-known  neighborhood  that  was 

241 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

now  his  home,  out  into  the  big  world  again,  where 
he  had  already  suffered  more  pain  and  hardship 
than  usually  come  to  a  boy  of  his  age  and  station 
in  life,  Chris  felt  a  sudden  and  overwhelming  de- 
pression. What  had  he  done?  Where  was  he 
going?  And  should  he  ever  see  his  grandfather 
again — his  grandfather,  whom  he  truly  loved,  in 
spite  of  the  sense  of  injury  and  resentment  which 
had  so  absorbed  his  mind  during  the  last  few 
weeks? 

Christopher's  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  He  longed 
to  get  out  of  the  train  and  go  home  again.  If  it 
would  only  stop!  Instead  it  rushed  faster  and 
faster  through  miles  of  woodland.  The  thick 
masses  of  trees  but  added  to  his  bewilderment  and 
regret.  He  stared  at  them  through  the  blinding 
tears.  He  wondered  if  George  would  notice  if 
he  got  out  his  handkerchief  to  wipe  his  eyes.  He 
did  not  wish  George  to  see  that  he  was  crying. 
It  was  so  like  a  baby  to  cry,  and  he  intended  to 
be  quite  grown  up  now.  He  must  be,  if  he  was 
to  earn  his  living  like  a  man.  He  wondered  if 
George  ever  cried,  and  then  he  remembered  how 
he  and  Betty  had  met  George  in  the  road  after 
Mrs.  Smith,  his  mother  died,  and  he  had  cried. 
Leaving  home  was  almost  as  bad  as  having  some- 
body die,  Chris  thought.  If  his  grandfather  were 
to  die  before  he  went  back?  Went  back!  He  was 
not  going  back — at  least,  not  for  a  very  long  time. 

242 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

He  resolutely  fought  down  the  tears,  and  after 
awhile  he  had  succeeded  sufficiently  for  him  to  turn 
to  George  and  ask  him  some  questions  about  the 
means  that  he  should  take  to  get  a  position. 
George  answered,  evasively.  He  thought  it  was 
about  time  for  Christopher  to  meet  his  future 
employer,  but  he  could  not  suggest  this  until  he 
had  consulted  Mr.  Banks.  George  felt  a  deep 
respect  for  Mr.  Banks,  and  dared  not  act  without 
his  approval.  He  made  some  excuse  to  Chris- 
topher— told  him  he  was  going  forward  for  a 
smoke,  and  left  him  to  stay  where  he  was. 

"You're  not  used  to  going  through  the  train 
like  I  am,"  said  he.  "We're  making  time  now. 
You'd  better  keep  where  you  are,  with  your  lame 
leg." 

"But  if  I  go  into  the  newspaper  and  book  busi- 
ness, like  you,  on  trains,  I'll  have  to  go  through 
them  when  they're  going  fast,"  said  Chris. 
"Wouldn't  it  be  a  good  idea  for  me  to  get  used  to 
it  and  go  along  with  you  now?" 

" No,"  said  George,  decidedly;  "you  stay  where 
you're  put.  I  ain't  going  to  have  no  accident  on 
my  hands.  And  maybe  you  won't  do  no  railroad 
work.  I've  heard  of  something  else."  And  then, 
fearful  that  he  might  be  led  into  imparting  more 
definite  information,  George  hastened  "forward," 
to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  a  smoke  in  the  society  of 
that  fascinating  man  of  the  world,  Mr.  W.  Banks. 

243 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

That  gentleman  was  not  yet  ready,  apparently, 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  his  future  office  boy. 

"Time  enough,  time  enough!"  said  he,  easily. 
"Kids — little  ones — is  queer  cattle.  You  take 
him  along  with  you,  and  you  keep  him  till  I  give 
you  the  tip.  Then  you  can  bring  him  to  my 
place — to-morrow  or  next  day,  it  '11  be — and  we'll 
fix  up  everything.  Suppose  we  say  to-morrow 
morning  at  about  ten  o'clock." 

"But  I've  got  to  get  to  work,"  objected  George. 
"I've  got  to  find  a  job,  and  I  guess  as  long  as  I've 
come  back  I'll  tiy  for  it  right  off  or  I  won't  find 
anything.  What's  the  matter  with  bringin'  Chris 
to  your  place  this  afternoon?" 

"All  right,"  said  Mr.  Banks,  with  his  usual 
affability.  It  was  just  what  he  had  planned,  but 
he  considered  it  advisable  to  let  George  suggest 
these  things.  He  had  already  calculated  the 
length  of  time  that  must  elapse  before  General 
Keith  should  start  in  pursuit.  .From  his  friend 
Ben  he  had  learned  the  breakfast-hour  and  the 
daily  customs  at  Keith  Hall,  and  had  reasoned 
that  the  General  could  not  take  the  nine  o'clock 
train.  He  would  certainly  reach  Boston  that 
evening,  however,  and  Banks  knew  that  it  would 
be  well  to  have  Christopher  in  his  own  keeping 
before  the  boy's  grandfather  could  interview 
Smith.  It  would  be  easy  enough  to  leave  town 
with  him  before  the  search  began. 

244 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

So  it  was  arranged  that  Smith  should  bring 
Christopher  to  a  certain  address  in  Boston  at 
three  o'clock  that  afternoon,  and  that  until  that 
time  the  boy  should  remain  in  ignorance  of  even 
the  existence  of  Mr.  Banks.  This  settled,  George 
returned  to  his  seat  beside  Christopher,  and  Mr. 
Banks  was  left  to  his  own  reflections. 

If  any  one  had  happened  to  be  watching  him, 
that  person  would  have  quickly  reached  the  con- 
clusion that  his  reflections  were  not  altogether 
satisfactory.  A  sudden  thought  seemed  to  come 
to  him  that  was  disturbing.  After  a  little  while 
he  drew  a  package  of  time-tables  from  his  pocket 
and  began  to  study  them.  Then  he  put  them 
away  again  and  gazed  out  of  the  window.  At 
last  he  seemed  to  reach  a  decision.  He  drew  his 
hat  well  down  over  his  eyes — it  was  a  soft  felt 
hat,  and  lent  itself  easily  to  a  variety  of  shapes, 
and  with  the  brim  turned  down  it  hid  completely 
the  upper  part  of  his  face.  This  done,  he  rose  and 
walked  through  the  train  to  the  last  car.  He 
passed  through  it  without  appearing  to  notice 
any  of  the  passengers.  He  went  to  the  door,  and 
stood  looking  out  at  the  track  as  the  train  sped 
on  its  way.  They  would  soon  reach  the  junction 
where  additional  cars  would  be  taken  on.  After 
a  few  minutes  he  turned  and  walked  slowly  back. 
As  he  passed  the  seat  occupied  by  George  and 
Christopher  he  put  out  his  hand  as  if  to  steady 

245 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW  YORK 

himself.  In  doing  so  he  pressed  George's  shoulder 
steadily  and  significantly.  Then  he  walked  on 
and  through  to  the  next  car.  In  a  few  minutes 
George  followed  him. 

"You're  a  bright  one,"  said  Banks.  He  had 
already  discovered  that  George  was  susceptible  to 
flattery.  "I  just  thought  I'd  try  you  and  see  if 
you'd  ketch  on.  Not  every  feller  would  have 
kept  as  quiet  as  you  did  and  then  follow  to  see 
what  was  wanted.  I  tell  you  now,  I'll  remem- 
ber this,  and  if  you  don't  find  a  job  on  the  rail- 
road— which  is  what  you  want  and  what  you're 
cut  out  for  if  ever  a  feller  was — you  just  come  to 
me  and  I'll  fix  you.  You're  just  the  sort  of  feller 
I'm  always  looking  out  for." 

"I  thought  p'r'aps  you  wanted  to  say  some- 
thing," said  George,  much  pleased  with  this  praise. 

"Well,  as  long  as  you're  here,  I'll  say  it,  but  it 
wasn't  so  very  important.  What  I  did  want  was 
to  see  if  you'd  ketch  on,  and  I  can  say  you  caught 
— yes,  you  caught.  I'm  thinking  it  would  be  a 
little  mite  easier  for  us  all  if  we  was  to  meet  in 
the  North  Station  this  afternoon  instead  of  your 
coming  way  to  my  place.  What's  the  use  of 
taking  your  time  to  come?  You're  a  busy  man, 
just  as  I  am.  You  bring  the  kid  to  the  station, 
or  you  tell  him  to  come  and  you'll  meet  him 
there.  Then  you  can  introduce  him  to  me,  and 
I'll  tell  him  what  I've  got  for  him  to  do." 

246 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

"What's  the  matter  with  introducing  him 
now?"  asked  George.  He  could  not  quite  un- 
derstand the  necessity  for  all  these  elaborate 
proceedings.  It  would  seem  so  simple  a  matter 
to  make  all  the  necessary  arrangements  on  the 
train. 

"Because  I  find  I've  got  to  change  at  the 
junction,"  replied  Banks,  who  had  prepared  him- 
self for  just  this  question.  "I've  got  business  on 
the  other  branch,  and  I  won't  reach  Boston  as 
early  as  you  do.  I've  got  to  stop  over,  and  then 
I'll  take  the  next  train.  You  have  the  boy  at 
the  North  Station  at  2  P.M.  You  have  him  stand- 
ing by  the  information  office,  right  there  in  the 
big  waiting-room.  You  know  it.  If  you  can't 
be  there  yourself — I  know  you're  a  busy  man — 
you  just  leave  him,  or  tell  him  to  go  there  and 
wait.  I'll  tell  him  about  his  job,  and  then  I'll 
take  him  to  my  place,  and  he  can  see  how  he 
likes  it.  Where's  the  kid  going  to  live,  anyhow?" 

"He's  going  shares  in  my  room."  George 
mentioned  his  address. 

"Well,  that  won't  be  very  convenient,  but  he 
may  as  well  begin  there  and  I  can  fix  him  later. 
I  have  a  sort  of  an  idea  I'm  going  to  like  that 
kid — take  a  fancy  to  him,  same  as  I  have  to  you. 
That's  my  way.  I  take  a  fancy,  and  there  ain't 
anything  I  don't  feel  like  doing  for  a  young  feller. 
Help  'em  right  along.  Well,  here's  the  junction. 

247 


MISS    BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

You  go  back  and  tell  little  Lovel  all  about  it, 
and  you  have  him  standing  by  the  informa- 
tion office  in  the  waiting-room  at  two  o'clock 
sharp." 

So  George  returned  to  Christopher  much  pleased 
to  be  allowed  at  last  to  impart  the  plans  which  his 
kind  friend  had  made  for  the  boy's  welfare,  and 
Christopher  listened  eagerly  and  agreed  to  do 
just  as  he  was  directed.  And  Mr.  Banks,  much 
pleased  himself  with  his  own  cleverness,  left  the 
May  bury  train  at  the  junction,  and  after  waiting 
there  fifteen  minutes,  took  another  train  which 
would  get  him  to  Boston  half  an  hour  later  than 
the  one  he  left.  He  would  have  plenty  of  time 
to  make  all  the  necessary  arrangements  for  the 
hiding  of  Christopher  in  Boston,  or  for  carrying 
him  to  some  other  place  if  that  seemed  more 
advisable  after  consultation  with  a  trusted  col- 
league. His  study  of  the  tune-tables  had  proved 
to  him  that  General  Keith,  even  if  he  started  at 
once  in  pursuit  of  his  grandson,  could  not  reach 
Boston  until  three  o'clock.  Banks  knew  all  about 
the  two-o'clock  train  on  the  other  road  which  the 
General  would  probably  try  to  make.  He  flat- 
tered himself  that  he  had  allowed  for  every  con- 
tingency. But  there  was  one  thing  which  he  had 
forgotten,  one  possibility  which  he  had  omitted 
to  take  into  consideration,  and  that  was  that 
sometimes  the  unforeseen  happens.  And  the  un- 

248 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

foreseen  was  at  that  moment  "happening"  in 
Maybury  Centre. 

The  Hamiltons  had  just  reached  home,  a  reply 
from  Mr.  Hamilton  had  been  received,  and  prep- 
arations were  being  hurriedly  made  for  Betty 
and  Gertrude  to  take  a  journey,  when  the  "honk- 
honk"  of  an  automobile  was  heard,  and  up  the 
steep  driveway  which  led  to  the  old  farm-house 
puffed  a  big  touring-car.  There  was  no  one  on 
the  piazza  when  it  approached,  but  the  unwonted 
sounds  brought  Betty  to  the  window.  With  a 
shout  of  delight  she  rushed  through  the  house. 

"Mamma!  Mamma!  Aunt  Edith  and  Uncle 
Lu  have  come!  They're  in  the  motor  at  the 
door!  Hurrah!  Hurrah!  Three  cheers!" 

"  I  never  was  so  thankful  in  my  life  to  see  you!" 
cried  Mrs.  Hamilton,  who  reached  the  door  almost 
as  soon  as  Betty  did,  and  was  closely  followed  by 
Pauline,  while  Charles  came  dashing  around  the 
side  of  the  house.  "Really  your  coming  now 
seems  providential.  We  didn't  expect  you  for 
two  weeks." 

"We  changed  our  plans  very  unexpectedly," 
said  Mrs.  Lewis,  unwinding  her  veils  and  proceed- 
ing to  kiss  her  assembled  relatives.  "We  thought 
we  would  come  here  at  the  beginning  instead  of 
the  end  of  this  part  of  our  trip,  and  it  would  be 
fun  to  take  you  by  surprise.  If  you  haven't  room 

249 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW   YORK 

for  us  now  we  can  go  to  Keith  Hall.  The  General 
will  probably  take  us  in." 

"Oh,  my  dear!  The  poor  General  —  but  do 
come  sit  down.  Ludovic,  I  am  so  thankful  to 
see  you!  We  need  your  advice  and  help.  Char- 
lie isn't  here,  and  such  a  strange  thing  has  hap- 
pened." 

"Chris  has  gone  off,  Uncle  Lu,"  put  in  Betty. 

"Gone  off?  When?  What  do  you  mean?" 
Mr.  Lewis,  who  had  been  deep  in  the  mysteries 
of  the  interior  of  his  automobile,  straightened 
himself,  and  looked  from  one  to  the  other. 

They  told  him,  all  speaking  at  once  and  inter- 
rupting one  another,  after  the  manner  of  a  family 
in  which  something  quite  unusual  has  occurred, 
but  he  finally  understood  what  had  happened. 

"And  I  am  going  with  General  Keith  to  find 
him,  because  I  know  the  man  by  sight,"  said 
Betty.  "Gertrude  and  I.  Gertrude  is  going  be- 
cause we  may  be  gone  for  some  time,  and  mamma 
won't  let  me  go  without  her,  but  I  could  get  along 
very  well.  We  are  going  to  drive  over  to  King- 
ford  to  take  a  train.  General  Keith  is  going  to 
send  for  us,  but  we  have  to  take  a  slow  train  in- 
stead of  a  fast  one  because  Kingford  is  twenty 
miles  away  from  Keith  Hall,  and  we  can't  get 
there  in  time.  Oh,  Uncle  Lu,  I've  just  thought 
of  a  scheme !  Why  don't  you  take  us  over  in  the 
motor?  We  could  get  that  fast  train  if  you  did." 

250 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

"What  time  does  it  leave  Kingford?"  asked 
Mr.  Lewis,  looking  at  his  watch,  and  then  hurriedly 
resuming  his  examination  of  his  car. 

"Twelve-fifteen." 

"And  it  is  now  half-past  eleven.  We'll  do  it. 
Quick,  Betty!" 

Betty  was  seated  in  the  car  with  a  jacket  over 
her  arm,  her  bag  at  her  feet,  and  a  big  veil,  which 
her  aunt  Edith  had  just  taken  off,  tied  over  her 
head,  in  almost  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it; 
but  Gertrude  was  not  so  swift  in  her  movements. 
She  was  very  much  averse  to  taking  this  unex- 
pected journey,  at  any  rate,  and  the  thought  of 
being  whirled  away  in  an  automobile  to  cover 
more  than  twenty  miles  in  half  an  hour  was  more 
than  she  could  endure.  She  expostulated,  pro- 
tested, and  lost  much  valuable  time. 

"Oh,  let  Betty  go  without  Gertrude,"  suggested 
Mr.  Lewis.  "Very  likely  we  shall  be  back  to- 
night. I  will  look  after  her,  and  we  can  engage 
a  maid  at  any  hotel  we  may  stop  at.  I  shall  go 
with  them  to  Boston,  Edith." 

" Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Lewis.  "Really,  Bessie, 
it  is  all  right  to  let  Betty  go  without  Gertrude." 

"Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  "if  Ludovic 
is  going." 

And  then,  with  hasty  farewells,  away  they  went, 
down  the  hill  and  off  over  the  country  road,  leav- 
ing behind  them  dense  clouds  of  dust,  and  terrify- 

251 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

ing  all  the  old  farm  horses  they  chanced  to  meet. 
They  turned  in  at  the  gates  of  Keith  Hall  just 
as  the  General's  carriage,  with  a  pair  of  his  fastest 
horses,  came  out  of  the  stable.  It  did  not  take 
long  to  explain  the  new  situation.  General  Keith 
and  Thomas  stepped  into  the  motor-car,  and  it 
dashed  away.  The  road  from  Maybury  to  King- 
ford  was  a  good  one  for  that  mountainous  region, 
and  if  all  went  well  they  would  arrive  in  Kingford 
in  plenty  of  time  to  put  the  car  up  at  a  garage 
and  take  the  twelve-fifteen  train  for  Boston. 

"I  have  always  disliked  these  obnoxious  ma- 
chines," said  General  Keith,  leaning  forward  and 
raising  his  voice;  "as  you  know,  I  have  felt  very 
strongly  that  they  were  the  most  dangerous,  the 
most  objectionable  form  which  human  invention 
has  yet  assumed;  but  I  begin  to  think  they  have 
their  uses,  after  all." 

Ludovic  Lewis  did  not  reply  beyond  a  nod  of 
his  head,  but  Betty,  who  was  sitting  beside  him, 
looked  up  in  tune  to  see  a  smile  of  satisfaction 
spread  over  his  handsome  face. 

"That's  one  for  you,  Uncle  Lu,"  she  said. 

She  and  her  uncle  were  now  the  best  of  friends, 
although  this  had  not  always  been  the  case,  and 
she  was  delighted  that  he  was  to  be  one  of  the 
party  to  rescue  Chris.  It  was  all  very  exciting, 
and  Betty  was  immensely  pleased  with  the  way 
things  were  turning  out.  A  railroad  journey, 

252 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

an  automobile  ride  at  high  speed,  and  jolly  Uncle 
Ludovic  instead  of  strict  Gertrude!  It  was  all 
very  fine  for  Miss  Betty.  She  felt  no  anxiety 
about  Christopher,  being  confident  that  she  and 
her  uncle  together  would  be  more  than  a  match 
for  the  "Fascinating  Feinando." 


XVI 

ALL  went  well.  There  were  no  punctured 
jL\.  tires,  no  breakdowns,  no  delays  of  any  kind. 
The  big  touring-car  whirled  up  to  the  station  at 
Kingford  without  having  encountered  an  acci- 
dent or  a  constable,  its  occupants  alighted,  and 
while  Thomas  went  in  to  buy  tickets  for  the 
party,  Mr.  Lewis  drove  to  a  garage  not  far  away, 
and  then,  coming  quickly  back,  joined  his  uncle 
and  niece  just  as  the  train  puffed  into  the  station. 
Kingford  was  a  town  of  considerable  size,  with 
paved  streets  and  brick  buildings,  and  of  suffi- 
cient importance  for  all  the  express  trains  to  stop 
there.  It  was  on  the  main  line  of  the  railroad 
and  the  direct  route  to  Boston,  and  very  soon  the 
travellers  were  seated  in  a  parlor-car  with  the 
satisfactory  assurance  that  they  had  caught  their 
train  and  were  due  to  arrive  in  Boston,  without 
further  change,  more  than  two  hours  earlier  than 
a  little  while  ago  they  had  supposed  possible. 
Another  good  thing  was  the  fact  that  Ludovic 
Lewis  was  with  them.  General  Keith  realized 
this  morning,  as  he  had  never  done  before,  that 

254 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

he  was  growing  older.  He  was  a  good  deal  shak- 
en by  Christopher's  hasty  and  secret  departure. 
He  was  cut  to  the  quick  by  it,  and  now  that  he 
had  time  to  think,  it  was  a  great  comfort  to  him 
that  Ludovic  was  there  to  help  and  to  advise,  and 
to  decide  quickly  in  any  emergency  that  might 
arise.  The  proud  old  man,  contrary  to  his  usual 
custom,  spoke  freely  to  the  younger  one. 

"I  insisted  that  he  should  change  his  name, 
Ludovic.  I  shouldn't  have  done  that.  Nobody 
could  have  induced  me  to  give  up  my  own  name. 
I  should  have  remembered  that.  And  then  the 
boy  heard  something.  He  heard  that — that  I 
couldn't  forgive  Emily.  He  doesn't  know  how 
deeply  I  have  regretted  my  harshness.  I  was 
younger  then,  and  my  nature  was  more  bitter, 
harder,  sterner.  Now  I  see  things  in  another 
light,  and  my  little  boy  has  unconsciously  taught 
me  how  we  ought  to  live  —  in  peace  and  good 
will  with  all,  even  with  those  who  have  wronged 
us.  But  there  was  something  to  be  said  on  both 
sides,  Ludovic." 

"Of  course,  uncle.    There  always  is." 

"But  I  am  not  excusing  myself.  She  was  my 
daughter,  and  I  should  have  forgiven  her.  I  in- 
tended atoning  for  it  with  her  boy,  and  now  he 
has  gone  away." 

"We  shall  find  him,  and  before  night.  Don't 
worry,  uncle.  It  will  all  come  out  right."  And 

17  255 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

privately  Ludovic  wondered  to  see  how  his  cold, 
proud  uncle  had  softened,  and  he  pitied  him  the 
more,  for  it  showed  what  he  was  suffering. 

The  train  was  on  time,  and  precisely  at  ten 
minutes  of  two  it  glided  into  the  Boston  terminal. 
As  the  party  walked  quickly  along  the  station 
platform,  Betty  between  General  Keith  and  her 
uncle,  and  Thomas  and  a  porter  following  with 
the  bags  and  wraps,  two  men  who  were  waiting 
near  the  exit  moved  forward  a  few  steps.  Mr. 
Lewis  stopped  and  spoke  to  them,  and  after  a 
brief  conversation  they  parted  again.  He  re- 
joined his  family,  and  they  mingled  with  the 
crowd  that  entered  the  waiting-room. 

"The  detectives  I  telegraphed  for,  uncle,"  said 
Ludovic.  "They  advise  us  to  work  very  care- 
fully— first  to  hunt  up  George  Smith,  and  see  if 
Chris  is  with  him.  If  he  is  not,  we  are  to  discover 
in  some  way  whether  Betty's  Hoboken  friend  has 
had  a  hand  in  it.  He  may  not  have,  you  know. 
That  may  have  been  merely  a  coincidence.  Sup- 
pose we  go  into  the  waiting-room  for  a  few  min- 
utes. You  and  Betty  can  sit  there  while  I  find 
out  something  about  Smith.  As  he  is  a  news- 
boy on  the  trains,  he  will  be  coming  into  the  sta- 
tion sooner  or  later,  and  we  perhaps  can  get  him 
more  quickly  than  by  going  to  the  address  that 
Thomas  got  from  the  aunt  in  Maybury.  He 
wouldn't  be  there  until  night.  We  will  go  sit 

256 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

down,  and  then  one  of  the  detectives  is  coming 
to  join  us,  so  that  Betty  can  give  him  an  exact 
description  of  her  Hoboken  friend,  both  the  way 
he  looked  then  and  as  he  does  now." 

They  had  entered  the  large  waiting-room,  and 
soon  found  seats.  Betty  did  as  she  was  told,  and 
described  with  great  exactness  the  past  and 
present  aspect  of  Mr.  Banks,  although  she  did  not 
know  him  by  that  name.  They  were  seated  in 
a  row  not  very  far  from  the  information  office, 
which  was  a  booth  almost  in  the  centre  of  the 
room.  At  times  a  long  line  of  persons  awaited 
their  turn  to  ask  for  "information"  regarding  the 
trains,  at  other  times' no  one  was  at  the  window. 
The  detective  was  standing  in  front  of  Betty. 
As  she  turned  from  him  to  answer  a  question  of 
General  Keith's,  she  gave  an  exclamation  and 
started  to  her  feet; 

"There  he  is!    There's—" 

"Sit  right  down!"  commanded  the  detective. 
"Don't  show  yourself." 

"But  it's  Chris  himself!"  said  Betty,  reluc- 
tantly obeying  him. 

"Never  mind.  All  the  better.  Tell  me  where 
without  looking  that  way.'' 

"Chris  himself!"  repeated  General  Keith.  He 
also  attempted  to  rise. 

"You  must  keep  quiet,"  said  the  detective, 
whose  name  was  Taylor.  "I  believe  this  is  all 

257 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW   YORK 

a  carefully  laid  scheme  to  abduct  your  grand- 
son, General  Keith,  by  the  same  man  who,  from 
what  this  young  lady  tells  me,  tried  to  do  it  be- 
fore. It  will  be  to  your  future  advantage  to 
have  him  shut  up,  or  he  will  be  after  him  again, 
so  we  must  get  him  this  time.  Now,  young 
lady,  tell  me,  without  looking  at  him,  where  the 
boy  is." 

"He's  standing  by  that  place  where  people  go 
to  ask  questions.  He's  got  his  back  turned  to 
us.  I  don't  believe  he  has  seen  us  at  all." 

"So  much  the  better."  Taylor  had  been  talk- 
ing in  a  low  voice,  but  without  any  appearance 
of  mystery.  He  now  glanced  about  the  waiting- 
room  without  allowing  his  eyes  to  rest  longer  in 
one  place  than  another. 

"A  slight  boy  with  light  hair?  Wears  a  little 
gray  cap?" 

"Yes,  yes!"  exclaimed  the  General.  "There 
he  is.  I  see  him  myself." 

The  line  had  moved  on  from  the  information 
office,  and  Chris  now  stood  there  alone.  He  was 
gazing  toward  the  doors  which  opened  upon  the 
street.  The  ever-changing  throng  within  the 
station  made  but  little  impression  upon  him. 
He  had  been  told  that  Banks  would  be  in  Boston, 
and  would  join  him  soon  after  two  o'clock  and 
take  him  to  his  office,  which  was  not  far  away. 
He  therefore  directed  his  attention  entirely  to 

258 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

the  doors  by  which  a  man  already  in  the  city 
would  naturally  enter. 

"He  is  evidently  waiting  for  some  one/'  said 
Ludovic.  "I  think  Mr.  Taylor  is  right,  uncle. 
We  want  to  make  sure  of  that  man  this  tune. 
If  it  proves  to  be  Smith  who  comes  for  Chris  no 
harm  will  be  done.  If  it  isn't — " 

"There's  somebody  now!"  exclaimed  Betty. 
"And  it  isn't  either  of  them." 

A  man  had  walked  up  to  Christopher  and  said 
something  to  him.  The  boy  answered,  and  ap- 
peared to  be  questioning  the  new-comer.  He 
still  stood  with  his  back  toward  his  friends,  who 
were  all  eagerly  watching.  Then  he  stooped, 
picked  up  his  bag,  which  he  had  placed  upon  the 
floor,  and  walked  away  with  the  stranger  toward 
the  door  of  the  station. 

"Come,"  said  the  detective.  He  walked  in 
front,  with  Mr.  Lewis,  Betty,  and  the  General 
close  behind.  They  quickened  their  footsteps,  so 
that  by  the  time  Christopher  and  his  companion 
reached  the  sidewalk  they  were  very  near. 

"I'll  give  you  a  nice  automobile  ride,"  they 
heard  the  man  say. 

"Is  it  far  to  the  office?"  asked  Christopher. 

"Quite  a  little  way,  but  you  won't  mind  that. 
This  way."  His  guide  led  him  along  the  side- 
walk toward  the  end  of  the  big  station.  An  auto- 
mobile was  drawn  up  at  the  curbstone.  The  man 

259 


MISS   BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

in  the  chauffeur's  seat,  in  a  soft  hat  drawn  well 
down  over  his  face,  looked  neither  to  the  right 
nor  the  left  as  they  approached.  Betty  was  now 
walking  beside  her  uncle.  She  glanced  curiously 
at  the  automobile  and  at  the  chauffeur. 

"  Oh !"  she  exclaimed.  "  Quick !  There  he  is — 
Hoboken  man — in  the  motor!" 

Taylor  signed  to  the  party  to  wait.  He  moved 
quickly  forward,  joined  by  the  other  officer,  who 
appeared  from  some  other  quarter.  A  police- 
man stood  on  the  corner.  Christopher's  com- 
panion opened  the  door  of  the  automobile.  "In 
with  you!"  he  said.  Still  the  chauffeur  did  not 
look  up. 

Christopher's  foot  was  on  the  step  when  he  felt 
himself  picked  up  by  some  one  behind  him,  who 
took  him  by  the  arms,  lifted  him  high  in  the  air, 
and  then  set  him  down  on  the  pavement  again 
several  paces  away.  He  looked  up  in  bewilder- 
ment, to  find  himself  standing  by  .his  grandfather, 
with  his  cousin  Ludovic,  who  had  carried  him, 
close  behind  him.  He  was  too  much  amazed  to 
say  a  word.  He  looked  at  the  automobile.  Two 
men  had  jumped  into  it,  and  two  policemen  stood 
beside  it. 

"They've  got  him!"  exclaimed  Betty.  "The 
Hoboken  man,  Chris,  the  '  Fascinating  Fer- 
nando.' They've  got  him  tight.  Oh,  I  hope 
they'll  hold  on  to  him  and  not  let  him  wriggle 

260 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

away  from  them!  They  ought  to  know  how 
well  he  wriggles!" 

"Why,  Betty!  Are  you  here?"  Chris  turned 
and  looked  at  her.  "What  does  it  all  mean? 
How  did  you  get  here?  And — and — "  He  turn- 
ed again  and  looked  at  his  grandfather,  who  had 
not  spoken  a  word.  "Oh,  grand,  dear  grand, 
did  you  come  after  me?  Oh,  I  am  so  glad!  And 
I'm  sorry  I  did  it.  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you 
again." 

Still  the  General  said  nothing,  but  he  held  out 
his  hand.  Christopher  took  it  in  his  own.  It 
was  long  before  he  would  let  it  go.  Clinging  to 
his  arm,  they  walked  back  into  the  waiting-room. 

Presently  Ludovic  Lewis  joined  them. 

"Well,  Betty,"  said  he,  "you  have  done  some 
good  work !  If  it  hadn't  been  for  you,  we  shouldn't 
have  managed  it  all  so  easily  and  neatly.  With 
your  aid  the  detectives  have  nabbed  a  man  they 
have  been  after  for  some  time — a  man  who  is 
wanted  for  making  counterfeit  money,  and  writ- 
ing some  one  else's  name,  and  a  few  other  charm- 
ing little  affairs.  It  seems  he  has  been  in  prison 
in  New  York  until  last  spring,  and  was  wanted 
in  Boston  for  something  he  did  here  after  he  got 
out,  but  he  has  kept  carefully  out  of  the  way  until 
to-day.  In  his  desire  to  make  a  fortune  out  of 
uncle  he  walked  right  into  the  trap.  He  will  be 
-shut  up  now,  uncle,  for  a  sufficient  number  of 

261 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

years  for  Chris  to  grow  up  and  be  able  to  take 
care  of  himself." 

"What  does  it  all  mean?"  asked  Christopher. 
"Was  that  man  trying  to  run  away  with  me 
again?" 

' '  That  is  j  ust  what  he  was  doing.  He  evidently 
visited  May  bury  for  no  other  purpose." 

"But  I  hadn't  seen  him  before,"  said  Chris. 
"I  came  away  with  Geor — I  didn't  come  with 
that  man." 

"You  came  with  George  Smith,"  said  Betty, 
finishing  the  sentence  for  him.  "You  needn't 
think  we  don't  know  that.  And  if  George  is  a 
friend  of  that  Hoboken  man,  I  don't  think  much 
of  him.  And,  Chris,  I'm  sure  he  was  '  Fascinat- 
ing Fernando'  at  the  circus.  I  couldn't  think 
whom  he  reminded  me  of  at  the  time,  but  now 
I'm  sure.  Why,  Chris,  I  don't  see  how  you 
could  help  recognizing  that  man.  He  has  such 
queer  big  ears  and  such  jiggly  eyes.  They  go 
jumping  about  so,  and  never  look  at  you.  I 
knew  him  the  minute  I  saw  him  at  Maybury  this 
morning,  even  though  he  did  have  on  that  queer- 
looking  beard." 

"Was  he  really  at  Maybury?" 

"Yes,  and  left  there  on  your  train." 

"Uncle,  we  can  get  back  to-night,"  said 
Ludovic,  "and  I  think  it  would  be  advisable, 
don't  you?  If  we  are  wanted  in  court  we  can 

262 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

come  to  Boston  again.  There  is  a  train  some- 
where around  four  o'clock.  In  the  mean  time, 
wouldn't  it  be  well  to  get  something  to  eat? 
Those  sandwiches  we  had  on  the  road  were  not 
altogether  filling." 

He  thought  it  was  time  to  create  a  diversion, 
for  Christopher's  face  showed  marks  of  fatigue. 
He  had  been  through  a  long  day  of  excitement 
which  had  begun  at  a  very  early  hour,  and  he. 
had  had  but  little  food.  Ludovic  did  not  know 
all  this,  but  his  keen,  kind  eyes  detected  the 
boy's  exhaustion.  And  presently,  when  they 
were  all  seated  at  table,  he  kept  them  laughing 
with  his  absurd  remarks  and  high  spirits  until 
they  had  forgotten  for  a  time  the  events  which 
had  led  to  the  journey  to  Boston.  He  knew 
that  General  Keith  had  been  very  much  affected 
by  all  this,  and  that  the  narrow  escape  of  his 
grandson  from  grave  danger  had  made  a  profound 
impression  upon  the  old  man.  Ludovic  deter- 
mined to  have  a  conversation  with  Christopher 
himself.  He  felt  that  he  could  speak  to  him 
more  clearly  and  forcibly,  and  with  greater  effect, 
perhaps,  than  could  the  General.  It  was  very 
plain  that  the  boy  did  not  in  the  least  realize  his 
duty  to  his  grandfather.  But  all  this  must  be 
deferred  until  they  were  safely  back  in  Maybury. 

Chris  did  not  talk  much  while  they  were  at 
table.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  thinking  deep- 

263 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

ly,  that  something  was  troubling  him  which  was 
not  the  sense  of  his  narrow  escape.  Ludovic's 
impression  was  justified  when  the  boy  came  to  his 
side  as  they  left  the  restaurant. 

"Cousin  Ludovic,"  he  said,  "I  want  to  speak 
to  you.  I  would  rather  no  one  else  heard." 

"All  right,  Chris.  We'll  manage  it.  We  will 
go  buy  some  fruit  to  take  up  to  Maybury.  There 
is  a  fruit  store  not  very  far  from  the  station. 
That  will  give  us  a  chance  to  talk.  Uncle,"  he 
said,  raising  his  voice,  "if  you  and  Betty  will  go 
sit  down  in  the  waiting-room  for  a  few  minutes, 
Chris  and  I  will  make  some  purchases  we  want 
for  our  relatives  in  Maybury." 

"Oh,  let  me  go  with  you!"  exclaimed  Betty. 

"I  cannot  think  of  allowing  Christopher  out 
of  my  sight  now,"  protested  General  Keith. 

"Why,  Christopher  has  never  been  so  safe  as 
he  is  at  this  minute,  uncle.  He  could  probably 
go  all  over  Boston  alone,  now  that  his  particular 
friend  from  Hoboken  is  safely  stowed  away  in 
the  patrol  wagon  with  three  stout  policemen  to 
guard  him.  And  I  think  you  can  trust  him  with 
me,  sir." 

"Of  course  I  can.     I  spoke  without  thinking." 

"But  you  will  stay  with  the  General,  Betty. 
We  don't  want  to  leave  him  all  alone,  and  Thomas 
is  off  somewhere.  Yes,  Betty,  please  do  as  I  ask." 

So  Betty  sat  down  beside  the  General  with  as 

264 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW   YORK 

good  a  grace  as  possible  in  the  face  of  a  disin- 
clination to  do  what  she  was  requested.  It  was 
very  poky  to  sit  by]  the  taciturn  General  when 
jolly  Uncle  Lu  was  taking  Chris  on  a  private  ex- 
pedition to  the  shops. 

"We  shall  not  be  gone  long,"  said  Ludovic. 
"Only  across  the  way  to  buy  peaches.  You're 
a  peach  yourself,  Betty.  You  don't  need  to  buy 
any." 

"Uncle  Lu!  Well,  I'll  stay,  only  I'd  rather  eat 
one  than  be  one." 

"We'll  bring  you  some.  Come  along,  Chris. 
Now,  old  man,"  he  added,  as  they  walked  away, 
"what  do  you  want  to  say  to  me?" 

"It  is  about  George  Smith.  I  don't  believe  he 
really  had  anything  to  do  with  that  man  trying 
to  steal  me.  I  don't  want  him  punished,  and  I'm 
afraid  grandfather  will.  I  know  he's  feeling  very 
angry  with  George.  It  was  all  my  own  fault  that 
I  left  Maybury — I  mean  it  was  my  own  plan. 
George  advised  me  not  to  go.  Only  last  night, 
when  he  came  up  to  tell  me  we  were  to  start  this 
morning,  he  didn't  want  me  to  come ;  but  I  wanted 
to  earn  my  own  living,  just  the  way  he  is  doing. 
I  don't  think  he  even  knows  the  Hoboken  man." 

"Are  you  quite  sure  he  doesn't?  Was  George 
with  you  all  the  time  on  the  train?  Didn't  he 
leave  you  at  all?" 

"Why,  yes,  he  didn't  stay  with  me  all  the  time. 

265 


MISS    BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

He  went  into  the  smoking-car  without  me.  He 
said  I  had  better  not  go  through  the  train  while 
it  was  going  so  fast." 

"And  was  not  he  the  one  who  directed  you  to 
stand  by  the  information  office  to  meet  the  man 
who  promised  to  employ  you?" 

"Yes,  he  was.  But,  oh,  I  don't  want  to  believe 
George  tried  to  have  me  stolen." 

"  No,  I  don't  suppose  you  do.  It  is  not  a  pleas- 
ant experience  to  find  that  persons  we  supposed 
were  our  good  friends  have  proved  that  they  could 
not  be  trusted;  but  it  sometimes  happens,  all  the 
same.  I  think  we  shall  have  to  find  out  just  how 
much  George  has  had  to  do  with  this  business. 
If  you  will  trust  me  to  manage  it,  Chris,  I  think 
I  can.  I  shall  have  to  come  to  Boston  in  the 
course  of  a  day  or  two  about  this  other  man. 
They  will  want  me  for  a  witness,  I  suppose,  and 
then  I  can  see  George  and  get  at  the  truth.  You 
can  depend  upon  me,  old  man.  If  there's  any 
good  in  George  at  all,  I'll  try  and  hunt  it  up.  If 
there  isn't,  if  he's  a  pretty  bad  lot,  why,  it  will 
be  as  well  for  you  to  know  it.  Will  you  leave 
it  to  me?" 

"Of  course  I  will,  Cousin  Ludovic.  But  you 
tell  him,  won't  you,  that  I  don't  think  he  meant 
any  harm?" 

"Yes,  I'll  tell  him.  And  now  tell  me  what 
you  think  of  these  peaches.  Are  they  good 

266 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

enough  for  your  cousin  Edith  and  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton?" 

"I  don't  think  they  are/'  returned  Chris, 
promptly. 

They  had  crossed  the  crowded  street  and  en- 
tered the  little  shop.  The  elevated  trains,  the 
subway  cars,  the  heavy  drays,  the  carriages  and 
automobiles  united  to  make  a  deafening  roar, 
and  it  was  necessary  to  raise  their  voices  to  be 
heard.  The  hot  summer  sun  beat  down  upon 
the  city  street,  but  at  that  very  instant  a  subtle 
change  crept  into  the  atmosphere.  A  salt  smell 
mingled  with  the  odor  of  decaying  fruit  and  dust 
and  smoke,  a  cool  air  brought  vigor  and  refresh- 
ment. An  east  wind  had  sprung  up,  and  wilted 
humanity,  refreshed  and  invigorated,  moved  more 
briskly  and  thought  more  clearly  and  rejoiced  in 
the  relief,  for  it  had  been  a  very  hot  day. 

Ludovic  and  Christopher  soon  found  some  fruit 
that  was  more  to  their  liking,  and  then  they  re- 
turned to  the  station,  having  also  provided  them- 
selves with  a  basket  of  peaches  and  pears  es- 
pecially for  Betty — and  also  a  large  box  of  candy, 
which  was  even  more  pleasing  to  the  young  lady 
in  question.  And  presently  they  were  all  seated 
in  the  train  and  were  hurrying  as  fast  as  steam 
could  carry  them  back  to  old  Maybury,  which 
they  had  all  left  that  morning  under  such  different 
circumstances. 

267 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

Telegrams  had  been  sent  before  them,  and  the 
anxiety  of  those  left  at  home  had  been  relieved 
as  quickly  as  possible.  Naturally  the  news  of 
Christopher's  departure  had  spread  quickly 
through  the  village,  for  it  had  rested  with  Sam 
Wilson  to  make  it  known.  Gossip  did  not  linger 
long  in  his  keeping.  His  was  a  generous  soul  in 
that  respect,  and  he  no  sooner  heard  a  piece  of 
news  than  he  imparted  it  to  his  neighbor.  The 
tale  of  his  call  at  Keith  Hall  had  been  told  with 
twenty  variations  before  twelve  o'clock.  When 
the  telegrams  began  to  arrive,  hot  though  the 
day  was,  the  village  assumed  an  aspect  of  un- 
wonted activity  for  the  hour.  The  station  mas- 
ter, who  was  also  the  telegraph  operator,  and 
whose  name  was  "Jabe"  Tarleton,  lost  no  time 
in  spreading  the  news  of  the  rescue.  He  had 
never  felt  the  necessity  for  privacy  in  the  matter 
of  telegraphic  communication. 

"Gosh!"  said  he,  "what's  the  use?  If  a  feller 
talks  by  wire  he's  got  to  expect  some  other  fellow 
to  know  what  he's  talkin'  about.  Same  as  postal- 
cards.  Postal-cards  is  public  property.  And  tel- 
ephones. If  the  telephone  ever  gets  put  up  in 
Maybury  Centre,  and  I  hope  it  will,  I'll  feel  I 
hev  the  right  to  set  down  and  listen  to  whoever 
happens  to  be  talkin'  on  the  line  I  happen  to  hev 
in  my  house.  It's  one  of  the  chances  we've  all 
got  to  take,  and  we're  all  born  equal." 

oca 


MISS    BETTY    OF    NEW    YORK 

These  being  his  openly  expressed  sentiments, 
it  surprised  no  one  when  he  informed  the  waiting 
village  that  Chris  had  been  found,  the  scoundrel 
caught,  and  the  party  was  to  return  that  even- 
ing. It  would  have  been  a  keen  disappointment 
to  every  one  had  he  not  told  it.  As  to  the 
"scoundrel,"  that,  they  all  decided,  was  George 
Smith.  No  one  had  ever  liked  George.  He  had 
borne  a  bad  name  from  his  first  appearance  in 
Maybury  Centre,  when  his  mother  took  the  old 
house  down  the  lane  beyond  Toppan  Farm.  No 
special  act  of  wrong-doing  had  ever  been  traced 
to  George,  no  one  could  have  explained  the 
origin  of  his  unsavory  reputation.  It  had  taken 
root  and  grown,  fostered  at  first  by  his  extreme 
poverty  and  shabby  appearance.  When  it  was 
found  that  he  was  the  nephew  of  Lucetta  Smith, 
who  was  greatly  loved,  there  were  many  who  for 
her  sake  were  inclined  to  overlook  the  past;  but 
George  himself  could  not  forget  it,  and  he  had 
no  friendly  feelings  toward  the  people  of  May- 
bury.  He  refused  to  respond,  therefore,  to  their 
belated  advances,  and  he  thus  made  himself  more 
unpopular  than  ever.  And  now  something  had 
occurred  which  caused  them  all  to  shake  their 
heads  and  say,  "I  told  you  so!" 

As  may  be  supposed,  a  number  of  persons 
gathered  at  the  little  station  to  watch  the  arrival 
of  the  train  from  Boston,  and  those  who  did  not 

269 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

come  to  the  station  were  seated  on  the  front 
piazzas  of  their  houses.  But  all  in  vain.  The 
train  arrived,  but  the  only  persons  to  leave  it 
were  one  or  two  local  travellers.  What  could 
have  happened?  And  the  General  was  evidently 
not  expected,  for  no  carriage  had  been  sent  to 
meet  him.  Jabe  had  certainly  made  a  great  mis- 
take. 

And  the  mystery  was  not  cleared  up  until  the 
automobile  of  "that  New  York  feller"  dashed 
through  the  village  an  hour  later,  having  left 
the  General  and  his  grandson  at  Keith  Hall  on 
its  way  from  Kingford,  and  containing  only  Mr. 
Lewis  himself  and  his  niece  Betty  Hamilton. 


XVII 

"  pOOD-NIGHT,  my  boy,"  said  General  Keith. 

\X  He  spoke  quietly,  and  his  face  betrayed  no 
emotion.  His  voice  shook  slightly.  They  had 
finished  dinner,  which  had  been  eaten  with  the 
usual  attendant  formalities.  There  had  been  lit- 
tle conversation,  but  Christopher  had  been  so 
silent  of  late  that  this  was  not  particularly 
noticeable.  There  was  nothing  to  mark  the 
fact  that  the  day  had  been  remarkable,  that  the 
two  who  sat  so  quietly  at  either  end  of  the  table 
had  since  sunrise  passed  through  many  emotions 
and  extremes  of  feeling.  The  sun  was  setting 
now,  a  great  ball  of  red  in  a  cloudless  west. 

"We  shall  have  another  hot  day  to-morrow," 
observed  the  General,  walking  to  the  window. 
Then  he  turned  to  Christopher.  "You  had  bet- 
ter go  to  bed  now.  You  are  tired." 

Chris  slipped  his  hand  into  his  grandfather's, 
and  together  they  walked  to  the  foot  of  the 
stairs.  When  the  General  said  good-night,  Chris 
let  go  his  hand  without  a  word.  He  mounted 
two  steps.  Then  he  turned  and  looked  into  his 

18  271 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

grandfather's  face,  with  which  his  own  was  now 
on  a  level. 

"Grand,"  he  said,  in  a  whisper,  "can  I  kiss 
you?" 

"Of  course,  Christopher.  Do  you  need  to  ask 
permission?" 

"I  didn't  know.  I  wasn't  sure.  Grand,  I'm 
sorry  I  did  it." 

"So  am  I." 

"I'm  sorry  because  it  worried  you,  but — " 

"We'll  have  no  'buts'  to-night,  Christopher. 
We  are  both  tired." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  They  stood 
facing  each  other  with  a  long,  straight  gaze,  the 
blue  eyes  of  the  boy  looking  into  the  dark  but 
faded  eyes  of  the  old  man.  Then  Christopher 
threw  his  arms  about  his  grandfather's  neck  and 
kissed  him,  and  without  a  word  he  went  up- 
stairs. General  Keith  stood  watching  him.  At 
the  top  the  boy  turned  and  looked  down. 

"Good-night,  grand,"  he  called. 

"Good-night,  boy." 

The  boy  was  soon  asleep,  but  the  man's  eyes 
did  not  close  until  almost  morning.  All  the  even- 
ing he  walked  up  and  down  the  library,  or  moved 
restlessly  from  one  room  to  another.  He  could 
not  read,  he  could  only  think,  and  when  at  last 
he  went  to  bed,  still  he  could  only  think. 

The  next  day  at  an  early  hour  Ludovic  Lewis 

272 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

came  to  his  uncle's  house  in  his  automobile  and 
invited  Chris  to  take  a  ride.  The  General  was 
still  sitting  at  the  breakfast-table,  but  Chris  was 
at  the  stable.  He  was  very  glad  to  see  Sassafras 
again.  Ben,  who  had  looked  after  the  horse,  had 
left  suddenly  the  day  before.  The  coachman  was 
very  much  disturbed  by  his  departure.  It  made 
him  one  man  short,  and  such  things  were  very 
"upsetting."  Ben's  popularity  had  waned  con- 
siderable in  consequence.  Chris  was  being  told 
about  it  when  he  heard  the  tooting  of  the  auto- 
mobile horn  and  ran  up  to  the  house  to  see  if  his 
cousin  had  come.  Very  soon,  the  General's  per- 
mission having  been  obtained,  the  two  were  glid- 
ing out  of  the  big  gates  and  on  their  way  to  South 
May  bury." 

"I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you,  Chris,"  said 
Mr.  Lewis,  "and  that  is  the  reason  I  didn't  bring 
Betty  or  any  one  else,  though  I  think  Miss  Betty 
would  have  liked  very  much  to  come.  But  I 
knew  this  would  be  the  only  way  to  see  you 
alone,  and  there  are  one  or  two  things,  my  boy, 
that  I  want  to  say  to  you.  First  of  all,  will  you 
tell  me  something?  Will  you  tell  me  what  on 
earth  made  you  run  away  yesterday?  Just  start 
in,  and  tell  me  from  the  beginning.  What  made 
you  do  it?" 

Ludovic  Lewis  was  one  of  those  rare  persons 
who,  by  a  fine,  wide  charity,  see  good  in  all  man- 

273 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

kind,  and  therefore  are  in  turn  trusted  by  all 
mankind.  Saints  and  sinners  alike,  we  have  all 
one  trait  in  common:  we  respond  to  those  who 
trust  us,  to  those  who  have  faith  in  us  we  try,  al- 
though perhaps  but  feebly,  to  justify  that  faith, 
to  be  worthy  of  it.  And  we  love  the  person  who 
believes  in  us.  Ludovic,  with  his  generous  nat- 
ure, his  keen  sense  of  humor,  his  charm  of  man- 
ner, was  loved  by  all  who  knew  him,  and  there 
was  no  one  more  wholly  devoted  to  him  than  his 
cousin  Christopher,  who  looked  up  to  him  and 
admired  him  with  all  the  ardor  that  a  boy  can 
feel  for  a  young  man.  There  was,  therefore,  no 
one  more  fitted  to  advise  him,  and  no  one  to 
whom  he  would  be  more  willing  to  open  his 
heart. 

For  a  few  minutes  after  Ludovic  asked  the  ques- 
tion there  was  no  reply.  He  turned  and  looked 
down  at  the  childish  face  and  saw  that  an  answer 
was  coming  presently.  Then  he  devoted  himself 
to  the  machine  and  waited. 

"I  went  because  I  thought  I  ought  to,"  said 
Chris,  at  last.  "And  I'm  going  again." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  His  cousin's 
voice  was  stern.  "Have  you  no  regard  what- 
ever for  your  grandfather?  Don't  you  love  him 
at  all?" 

"Why,  of  course  I  love  him,  Cousin  Ludovic! 
I  love  him  dearly." 

274 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

"  Don't  you  feel  the  least  regret  for  having  given 
him  so  much  anxiety  yesterday?  Do  you  realize 
the  danger  you  were  in?  Haven't  you  the  slight- 
est feeling  of  gratitude  at  being  saved  from  what 
might  have  proved  a  very  terrible  fate?" 

"Of  course,  Cousin  Ludovic;  but  you  don't 
seem  to  understand.  I  ran  away  because  grand- 
father wanted  me  to  give  up  father's  name,  and 
he  wasn't  kind  to  father,  and  so  I  think  I  ought 
to  make  my  own  living,  and  not  take  grand- 
father's money  or  have  him  support  me.  If  I 
were  very  little  it  might  be  different,  but  I  am 
big  enough  now  to  work.  That's  the  reason  I 
went.  I  didn't  know  that  man  was  going  to  be 
around  again  and  get  hold  of  me.  You  see,  he 
thought  I  was  a  rich  boy,  I  suppose.  He  didn't 
know  that  really  I'm  a  very  poor  boy.  But  now 
he's  caught  and  there's  no  danger  from  him,  so  I 
shall  be  quite  safe.  I  won't  go  away  next  time 
without  telling  grandfather.  I  will  tell  him  just 
what  I  am  going  to  do,  and  explain  why  I  am 
going.  I  see  now  it  was  wrong  not  to  have  ex- 
plained." 

"See  here,  Chris,"  said  Ludovic,  speaking  more 
gently  than  he  did  before,  "I  think  things  are 
all  twisted  in  your  mind.  I  suppose  you  have 
been  thinking  so  hard  that  you're  what  Betty 
would  call  'all  mixed  up,'  and  I  want  to  see  if 
we  can't  straighten  you  out  a  bit.  You  seem 

275 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

to  suppose  that  your  only  duty  in  life  is  to  re- 
sent the  wrong  that  was  done  to  your  father 
and  to  earn  your  own  living.  Now  I  think  your 
duty  is  very  different.  Shall  I  tell  you  what  I 
think?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I  think  your  duty  is  to  the  living  and 
not  to  the  dead.  By  that  I  don't  mean  that  you 
ought  to  try  to  forget  your  father,  but  you  ought 
to  try  to  forget  any  wrong  that  was  done  him  if 
the  person  who  did  it  is  sorry  about  it,  and  that 
your  grandfather  most  certainly  is.  As  to  the 
name,  I  agree  with  you.  I  should  not  give  up 
my  father's  name  for  any  amount  of  money.  I 
think  you  are  right  there,  and  I  am  quite  sure 
my  uncle  is  not  going  to  urge  it  any  more;  in 
fact,  he  told  me  so,  so  that  need  not  come  into 
the  discussion  at  all.  We  will  put  that  right  out 
of  our  minds.  But  you  have  a  big  duty  which 
you  don't  seem  to  see.  You  have  but  one  near 
relative  in  the  world,  and  he  is  an  old  man  who 
loves  you  very  dearly.  You  want  to  leave  him 
to  a  solitary  and  sorrowful  old  age,  just  so  that 
you  can  carry  out  your  idea  of  being  independent. 
We  can't  all  be  independent.  Most  of  us  would 
like  to,  but  most  of  us  have  ties  and  claims  of 
some  kind  that  must  be  attended  to.  Your 
grandfather  is  yours.  Remember  what  a  lonely 
little  chap  you  were  this  time  last  year!  Your 

276 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

cousin  Edith  has  told  me  how  you  used  to  long 
for  relations  of  your  own." 

"I  know/'  said  Chris,  in  a  low  voice. 

"And  there  is  still  another  point.  You  have 
no  right  to  shirk  the  responsibility  of  your  grand- 
father's money.  It  is  right  and  proper,  by  the 
law  of  every  civilized  country,  that  you  should 
inherit  your  grandfather's  money.  At  the  same 
tune,  it  is  up  to  you  to  learn  how  to  take  care  of 
it — how  to  do  good  with  it.  Do  you  think  you 
are  going  to  learn  how  to  be  a  good  millionaire  if 
you  should  spend  your  boyhood  selling  papers 
or  blacking  boots  or  running  errands?  There 
are  good  newsboys  and  good  bootblacks  and 
good  errand  boys,  and  I  honor  and  respect  all 
boys  who  make  an  honest  living  in  those  ways, 
but  I  shouldn't  honor  and  respect  a  boy  who 
shirked  larger  duties  and  responsibilities  for  the 
sake  of  having  his  own  way  and  doing  as  he 
liked.  When  the  money  finally  came  to  you, 
you  would  be  ignorant,  inexperienced,  totally  un- 
fitted in  every  respect  to  take  care  of  it.  In- 
stead of  being  ready  to  help  the  world  on  to 
something  better  by  wisely  administering  a  large 
fortune,  you  would  have  grown  up  ignorant  and 
self-willed  and  useless  for  the  position  you  will 
be  called  upon  to  fill.  Now  I  don't  believe  this 
side  of  it  has  occurred  to  you  at  all.  I  want  you 

to  think  it  all  over.    And,  above  all,  don't  forget 

277 


MISS   BETTY    OF   NEW    YORK 

the  duty  of  loving.  And  love  means  a  lot,  Chris. 
It  means  more  than  just  affection.  It  means  a 
large  comprehension,  an  understanding  heart. 
If  you  love  your  grandfather  in  the  way  you 
should  love  him  you  will  understand  him,  and 
if  you  love  your  fellow-men  you  will  understand 
them,  and  in  time  you  will  have  the  chance  to 
help  them.  Here  we  are  at  South  Maybury,  and 
I'll  stop  preaching.  Now  we'll  do  some  shopping 
again.  Let's  get  something  very  nice  for  Betty." 
They  found  a  gift  for  Betty  at  the  jewellers'. 
Chris  discoverered  it  himself,  and  declared  that 
there  was  nothing  else  in  South  Maybury  that 
would  do  as  well,  and  he  purchased  it  forth- 
with, being  obliged  to  borrow  some  money  of  his 
cousin  to  do  it,  for  he  had  not  come  prepared  to 
do  such  extensive  shopping.  It  was  a  little  gold 
locket  in  the  shape  of  a  heart,  and  Ludovic  made 
it  complete  by  adding  a  fine  gold  chain  upon 
which  to  wear  it.  It  was  great  fun,  Chris  thought, 
to  choose  these  articles,  and  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance to  decide  properly  as  to  the  relative 
merits  of  the  different  sizes  and  styles.  At  last 
this  was  accomplished,  and  while  the  box  was 
being  wrapped  up  his  attentive  gaze  wandered 
over  the  other  things  displayed  for  sale.  They 
were  about  to  leave  the  shop  when  Chris  paused 
and  looked  back. 

"Cousin  Ludovic,"  he  said,  and  hesitated. 
278 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

"What  is  it  now,  Chris?" 

"Do  you  think  grandfather  would  think  it  silly 
if  I  got  him  a  present?" 

"Why,  no,  of  course  not.  I  am  sure  he  would 
like  it." 

"Do  you,  really?  Well,  there's  something  I'd 
like  to  get.  It's  got  some  words  on  it,  and  I 
thought  if  I  gave  it  to  him  and  he  read  the 
words  he'd  understand  without  my  saying  any- 
thing." 

"Of  course  he  would.  That  is  a  very  good 
idea.  Let's  see  what  it  is." 

They  returned  to  the  show-case,  and  Chris- 
topher  requested  the  man  to  let  him  see  a  case 
of  rings  at  which  he  had  been  looking  through 
the  glass  while  they  waited.  They  were  exceed- 
ingly ugly  rings,  Ludovic  thought,  privately ;  but 
their  value  to  Chris  lay  in  the  fact  that  each  one 
was  in  the  form  of  a  shield.  On  the  shield  was  an 
initial,  and  under  the  initial  the  words  "  Je  t'aime." 
They  were  evidently  intended  for  engagement 
rings.  It  was  difficult  for  Chris  to  decide  whether 
the  proper  initial  to  choose  should  be  B  for  Bald- 
win or  K  for  Keith.  He  finally  decided  upon  the 
latter  as  being  more  appropriate,  "  because  grand 
is  so  fond  of  the  name  of  Keith,"  he  explained. 

"Do  you  think  he  will  wear  a  ring?"  suggested 
Ludovic,  not  wishing  to  interfere,  but  at  the  same 
time  wondering  what  effect  such  a  bit  of  jewelry 

279 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

might  have  upon  his  fastidious  uncle,  whose  taste 
in  dress  was  severely  simple. 

"I  think  he  will  if  I  ask  him  to,"  said  Chris- 
topher, with  the  child's  faith  in  his  own  power. 
The  rings  were  all  of  the  same  size,  so  that  ques- 
tion did  not  trouble  him,  and  very  soon  another 
box  was  tied  up,  and  with  the  two  precious  little 
packages  in  his  pocket  they  were  speeding  home- 
ward. 

They  did  not  talk  much.  Ludovic  felt  that  he 
had  said  enough,  for  he  saw  that  his  words  had 
taken  root,  and  he  hoped  would  bear  good  fruit. 
Chris  was  thinking  deeply.  They  were  almost 
at  Pringle  Farm  when  he  turned  suddenly  and 
asked  a  question. 

"Cousin  Lu,"  he  said,  "is  it  right  for  some  peo- 
ple to  have  such  lots  and  lots  of  money  when  oth- 
ers haven't  got  any?  Oughtn't  we  to  divide  up?" 

Ludovic  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  he 
said:  "That  question  has  been  asked  and  thought 
about  almost  since  history  began,  old  chap.  Di- 
viding up  doesn't  seem  to  help  matters  much, 
human  beings  being  what  they  are,  for  the  money 
can't  or  won't  stay  divided.  There  is  so  much  to 
affect  the  matter:  superior  ability,  intelligence, 
certain  talents,  education — oh,  it  is  a  huge  sub- 
ject! But  you  can  do  a  lot  of  good  with  a  large 
fortune  if  you  wish  to,  Chris,  and  I  hope  you  will 
do  it.  That  is  one  way  of  'dividing  up.' " 

280 


'"l    SHALL    ALWAYS    WEAR    IT     ALL    MY    LIKE     LONG,'     SHE    SAID" 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW   YORK 

And  then  they  turned  in  at  the  gates  of  Pringle 
Farm,  for  the  locket  must  be  given  to  Betty  be- 
fore Chris  went  home. 

Of  course,  Betty  was  delighted.  The  chain  was 
fastened  around  her  neck  at  once,  and  the  little  gold 
heart  looked  very  well  on  her  blue  gingham  frock. 

"I  shall  always  wear  it  all  my  life  long,"  she 
said.  "Pauline  has  a  round  locket  my  aunt  gave 
her,  but  it  isn't  nearly  as  pretty  as  this.  Weren't 
you  two  people  nice  to  get  me  such  lovely  pres- 
ents! Was  it  just  because  I  knew  the  man  from 
Hoboken  yesterday?" 

"Oh  no,"  said  Chris,  gravely,  before  his  cousin 
could  speak.  "We  got  them  for  you  because 
you're  the  nicest  girl  we  know.  That's  the  reason 
people  give  presents." 

"Do  you  really  like  me  better  than  you  do 
Rachel  Amy?"  asked  Betty,  greatly  pleased  with 
his  reply,  but,  womanlike,  not  quite  satisfied,  and 
insisting  upon  pushing  the  inquiry  as  far  as  pos- 
sible. 

"Why,  how  funny  you  are,  Betty!  I  should 
think  you'd  know.  I  like  Rachel  Amy  ever  and 
ever  so  much,  but  you're  a  sort  of  a  relation.  Of 
course,  we  think  you're  the  nicest  girl  we  know. 
Don't  we,  Cousin  Lu?" 

"Of  course." 

"If  it's  just  because  I'm  a  relation — "  she  be- 
gan. 

281 


MISS   BETTY   OF    NEW    YORK 

"Oh,  you  silly!"  exclaimed  Christopher.  "It 
isn't.  It's  because  you're  just  Betty.  I  couldn't 
possibly  ever  like  any  girl  as  much  as  I  do  you,  be- 
cause— why,  because  you're  Betty  Hamilton,  and 
there  couldn't  possibly  be  another  girl  like  you." 

"All  right,"  said  Betty,  satisfied  at  last;  "then 
I'll  always  be  very  careful  of  the  locket  and  never 
lose  it  and  treasure  it  forever."  Which  promise 
was  faithfully  kept  through  all  of  Betty's  life. 

"That  important  matter  being  settled,  you  may 
as  well  jump  in,  Betty.  We'll  take  Chris  home," 
said  her  uncle,  and  Betty  promptly  jumped  in. 

That  afternoon  Mr.  Lewis  went  to  Boston  again. 
He  was  gone  for  several  days;  but  when  he  re- 
turned, he  reported  that  matters  were  progressing 
satisfactorily.  Banks  was  in  jail  awaiting  trial; 
and  as  there  was  positive  proof  of  various  offences 
that  he  had  committed,  he  would  certainly  be 
sentenced  to  a  long  term  of  imprisonment.  George 
Smith  had  been  seen  and  interviewed,  and  there 
was  no  doubt  in  Ludovic's  mind  of  his  being  per- 
fectly innocent  in  the  matter  of  the  attempted 
stealing  of  Christopher.  He  had  been  so  anxious 
to  know  what  had  become  of  the  boy,  so  relieved 
to  hear  that  he  was  at  home  again,  and  so  un- 
mistakably disgusted  with  himself  for  having  been 
deceived  so  easily  by  the  accomplished  Banks, 
that  Ludovic  was  quite  sure  that  he  had  been 
entirely  ignorant  of  what  he  was  doing. 

282 


MISS   BETTY   OF   NEW    YORK 

This  opinion  of  George  Smith  was  shared  by  all 
of  Christopher's  immediate  friends,  but  the  peo- 
ple of  Maybury  Centre  were  not  convinced.  The 
story  had  soon  gained  ground  that  Smith  had 
come  back  to  Maybury  when  he  did  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  assisting  Banks. 

"I  tell  yer,"  exclaimed  Sam  Wilson,  "I  seen 
the  thing  from  the  first.  Yer  can't  fool  me. 
George  Smith  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole 
thing.  I'm  real  sorry  for  Lucetta  and  that  little 
Lucy.  George  is  a  bad  lot." 

In  which  opinion  his  intimates  concurred.  It 
was  a  clear  case  of  "once  give  a  dog  a  bad  name," 
and  it  was  years  before  George  Smith,  by  work- 
ing steadily  and  industriously,  succeeded  in  over- 
coming the  prejudice  against  him  which  was  so 
strong  in  Maybury  Centre.  He  was  not  there 
very  often,  but  he  came  occasionally  to  see  his 
sister,  who,  with  their  cousin  Rachel  Amy,  shared 
the  affections  and  the  home  of  their  aunt  Lucetta, 
for  Mrs.  Martin  united  her  fortune  with  that  of 
Timothy  Tarleton  and  went  to  live  in  Kingford. 
Christopher  Lovel  never  again  attempted  to  run 
away  from  home.  He  settled  it  definitely  with 
his  grandfather  the  evening  of  the  day  after  his 
first  and  only  expedition  in  search  of  an  indepen- 
dent life. 

The  day  had  been  passed  much  as  usual.  When 
Chris  returned  from  the  trip  to  South  Maybury 

283 


MISS    BETTY   OF    NEW  YORK 

the  General  suggested  an  hour's  music.  Then 
came  luncheon,  and  then  the  usual  afternoon  rest 
which  the  General  invariably  indulged  in.  After 
that  a  ride  on  horseback.  They  had  returned 
from  the  ride  and  were  awaiting  dinner  when 
Chris  finally  made  up  his  mind  to  speak  to  his 
grandfather.  All  day  he  had  been  trying  to 
screw  up  sufficient  courage  to  open  the  subject. 
He  knew  that  his  grandfather  intended  that  he 
should  speak  first. 

"Grand,"  he  said,  suddenly  rising  and  standing 
beside  him,  "please  excuse  me  for  going  off.  I 
oughtn't  to.  I  won't  again." 

"That's  right,  boy." 

"And,  grand—" 

"What  is  it,  boy?" 

The  General  fully  expected  to  hear  something 
now  in  regard  to  the  change  of  name,  but  Chris- 
topher had  no  intention  of  driving  a  bargain;  in 
fact,  such  a  thought  never  occurred  to  him.  He 
was  fumbling  in  his  pockets.  At  last,  after  pro- 
ducing various  treasures,  such  as  a  bunch  of 
string,  a  knife,  a  curious  pebble,  and  other  articles 
of  a  similar  nature,  he  drew  forth  the  little  box. 

"I  got  you  something  over  in  South  May  bury," 
he  said. 

"You  got  me  something?  A  present,  you 
mean?" 

"Yes,  grand.    I — I  want  you  please  to  wear  it. 

284 


MISS    BETTY   OF   NEW   YORK 

It's  a  ring,"  he  announced.  Then  anxiously: 
"  Do  you  think  it  will  fit ?  Try  it  on." 

General  Keith  did  as  he  was  commanded.  He 
had  never  worn  a  ring  in  his  life,  and  he  had  never 
seen  one  which  was  quite  so  hideous  as  this.  It 
fitted  exactly  his  little  finger. 

"It  does  fit!"  exclaimed  Chris,  joyfully.  "And 
do  you  see  what's  on  it?  Put  on  your  glasses, 
grand." 

General  Keith  put  on  his  glasses.  "Ah,"  said 
he.  "I  see.  That  is  very  nice,  Christopher. 
I'm — I'm  glad  to  have  it." 

"And  will  you  wear  the  ring?  Because  you 
know  I'd  like  to  have  you  remember  that,  and  the 
ring  will  remind  you." 

"There's  no  danger  of  my  forgetting,  but  I  will 
wear  the  ring." 

"Good!"  said  Christopher.  "I'm  glad  it  fits 
so  well.  And  you  see  it  has  a  K  on  it.  That's 
for  Keith." 

The  old  man  looked  at  it  again.  Then  he  put 
his  arm  around  his  grandson  and  drew  him  closer 
to  him. 

"Boy,"  said  he,  "don't  worry.  Your  name 
shall  always  begin  with  an  L.  And  we  will  agree, 
you  and  I,  to  let  bygones  be  bygones." 

THE  END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000126442     3 


